


Effloresce

by lovelydarkanddeep



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Cute, Dear Daisy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flowers, Happy Ending, Language of Flowers, Reylo - Freeform, Slow Burn, flowershop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelydarkanddeep/pseuds/lovelydarkanddeep
Summary: Rey loves her job at Dear Daisy, a budding flower shop that she works at alongside her co-worker Finn and the owner Poe. She does not love, however, the First Order Tattoo Parlor that abuts their quaint shop - and especially does not love the dark-eyed tattoo artist Kylo Ren whom she accidentally cursed out the first time they met. However, fate - otherwise known as Leia Organa Solo - seems to have other plans.Effloresce (v.) - To grow; to flourish; to bloom, as in a flower (as in love)





	1. Petunia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mischallany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischallany/gifts), [raindropwaltz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raindropwaltz/gifts), [chloé wellcomme](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chlo%C3%A9+wellcomme).



> I will hopefully be writing a spinoff AU to this where Rey is the tattoo artist and Kylo is the florist (but I need to finish this one first lol)
> 
> Official Effloresce [ playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/user/chloewellecomme/playlist/2tr4rKGD539rGxPQZ371I4?si=TsQ5fxmEQWG2xFFhoCfKeg) , courtesy of my peanut Chloé:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet flower shop girl Rey and tattoo artist Kylo <333
> 
> Lovely moodboard done by Ladylionhart on Tumblr, LadyLionhart on Ao3! Go check out her amazing fics :) <333

 

* * *

 

“Rey, can you please come help me with this delivery?”

 

Another swirl here, another line...there?

 

“Rey?”

 

Maybe that was too much…

 

She erased the last line, biting the end of the pencil in thought.

 

“REY! Help, please!”

 

Rey dropped her pencil onto her sketchpad in surprise, eyes flitting up to see a flustered Finn trying to keep from dropping a huge crate of carnations.

 

She hurriedly pushed off her stool, coming to the rescue just in time, as Finn’s fingers slipped from the bottom of the heavy crate.

 

She held the crate precariously, muscles straining, before Finn resumed helping her, carrying the unwieldy object between them to the front of the store.

 

They sat the crate down with a shared grunt, and Rey straightened sheepishly.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you call at all.”

 

Finn shook his head, a small smile on his handsome face. 

 

“Sketching again?”

 

Rey nodded, working in harmony alongside him as they unloaded the carnations that looked like they would bloom fully within the next week.

 

Rey knew her flowers well, from the most common jade rose to the rarest candlewick flowers. After all, she loved her job at _Dear Daisy_.

 

The scent of fresh loam and the subtle melodies of the flowers combined to form a scent that Rey thought the most beautiful in the world. Whenever she was having a bad day, she need only walk into the shop and inhale deeply; her shoulders would loosen, her breathing calmed.

 

It was better than therapy; in fact, it was _her_ therapy.

 

The tinkle of the bell sounded, and both workers turned to see a beautiful older woman walk into the store, regal and commanding despite her small stature.

 

“Leia!” Rey exclaimed in delight, rushing to hug the woman.

 

Leia Organa Solo was an expensive and well-known wedding planner that had first come to them looking to be partners in business. "You get my clients and I get a ten percent cut," she'd said.

 

Now though, she was like a mother to Rey, always stopping buy to check in on her and her coworkers.

 

“Hello Rey,” Leia chuckled out, gripping the girl in a tight hug, before squeezing her arms and pulling back, looking her over.

 

Satisfied she was well, Leia turned to Finn.

 

“Long time no see, stranger,” he greeted, his smile blinding as he similarly hugged the small woman.

 

Leia leaned forward from Finn’s embrace as if to share a secret, her lips quirking amusedly.

 

“That’s why I’m here, you see. I’ve been busy because Han proposed again, that old romantic. We’re having our vows renewed.”

 

Rey’s smile grew wider, if it was possible.

 

Every so often, Han came in with his wife to the flower shop, the two of them bickering all the way over which flowers to display on their kitchen table or in their front yard after Chewie dug up the last ones.

 

Yet Han always caved to Leia’s requests - _demands_ \- and when Leia wasn’t looking, the look he trained on her was one of unconditional love.

 

It made Rey happy, thinking she might find someone one day that would look at her that way.

 

“Of course, we’re going all out. Five tier wedding cake, a new wedding dress - God knows I don’t have the same damn hips now that I had when I was in my 20s. Anyways, Han wanted it to be simple, ‘say some words, slip some tongue, and have the reception at the bar’,” Leia said, mocking her husband’s deeper tone.

 

Rey laughed lightly. That did sound like Han.

 

“Men,” Leia voiced conspiratorially to Rey, rolling her kind brown eyes.

 

Finn, not the least bit insulted, only shook his head with an amused smile, continuing to arrange the carnations.

 

“Of course there isn’t anyone I would rather have doing my floral arrangements than the two of you. Now, the ceremony is in four months and I’m thinking a good 400 arrangements for the tables, plus my bouquet, the bridesmaids' bouquets, corsages-”

 

Rey’s eyes widened, as did Finn’s.

 

“Leia, are you sure? That’s a lot-”

 

“Of work for you two and Poe? I know, but I think you can handle it. Now, I want to talk centerpieces.”

 

Rey was going to say money, but she wasn’t about to argue with Leia Organa Solo.

 

So, instead, she led Leia to the sitting area, hefting the book containing Dear Daisy’s arrangement options onto her lap, and flipping it open to the first laminated page.

 

“These are our basic arrangement packages, varying in size, spread-”

 

The first jarring notes bled through the walls, followed by the dull but distinguishable sound of a guitar riff.

 

Rey ignored it as she always did, continuing to explain the basic arrangements to Leia.

 

Then: _Thump thump thump_.

 

The bass line made her heart beat in time, the reverberations traveling from the floor into her feet and up her legs.

 

“And this is our Blossoming Romance arrangement, with Alderaanian lilies, pink jade roses-”

 

 _Thump thump thump_.

 

Rey gritted her teeth, but continued, trying to listen to Leia’s vision for the arrangement while her legs felt like ants were crawling up them from the prickling vibrations of the music.

 

 ** _THUMP THUMP THUMP_**.

 

Fists clenched, Rey was having a hard time hearing Leia, who looked mildly disturbed by the sounds as well.

 

When the chorus started with a vengeance, loud, piercing, and shrieking through the walls, Rey stood suddenly, knocking back her chair.

 

This had gone on for long enough - months and months of vibrating walls, base lines pounding until her migraine pounded in time with it.

 

Rey was working on what would probably be the most profitable and important commission of the year, and she’d be damned if she lost it because of those damned punks.

 

This was her goddamned flower shop ( _actually it was Poe’s_ ), her place of _zen_ , and she was _sick_ of a bunch of asshole tattoo artists blaring their heavy bass-boosted metal music (or whatever it was called) and ruining it.

 

Rey was stomping out of the shop before Finn or Leia could even blink, and was next door pushing open the glass embossed door to First Order Tattoos before she could stop _herself_.

 

Inside, the music was even louder, piercing her very brain, and she wondered how everyone in the damned place wasn’t already deaf.

 

The reception area held a few customers, tats and piercings galore, bobbing their heads in time to the rubbish they called music. 

 

Rey ignored them, continuing towards the source of the noise, passing closed and open black glass doors alike, until she stopped outside the one emitting the noise.

 

Slamming the door open, she took in the sight of a woman’s exposed lower back. A dark-haired man leant over her in intense concentration as he tattooed what looked to be a red-haired man’s visage on the exposed flesh. His grip dwarfed the tattoo machine, made it look like a child’s toy in his broad, large hands.

 

He didn’t even jump at the noise of the door hitting the wall - because he didn’t hear it. (In hindsight, this might have been a good thing, as he might have messed up the woman’s tattoo.)

 

Rey waved her hands for a minute like an idiot, before she stepped forward and poked his bicep hard, finally garnering his attention.

 

His eyes flicked up, focusing a dark gaze of such intensity on Rey that she felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

 

His face immediately jumped out at Rey. It was unique, equal parts harsh and aquiline. Plush lips, strong nose, sharp jaw. Eyes that burned black.

 

He slowly scanned her with those eyes, from head to toe, before meeting her gaze once more, seemingly unimpressed by the woman before him with three disheveled buns and soil-stained overalls.

 

Rey crossed her arms in front of her defensively, and took a breath, trying to calm herself.

 

“Could you turn down the music?” she asked loudly.

 

The man’s face furrowed into a slight glare, continuing to sit there staring at her. The woman sat up slightly to turn her head to stare at her too.

 

“Please,” she added, hoping that would spur him into movement.

 

It didn’t.

 

“So you’re just going to be an asshole and sit there?”

 

He didn’t make a move to get up or even reply.

 

Rey exploded, arms waving, chest heaving.

 

“I come to work everyday and hear your shit music blaring through the bloody walls, shaking them until the pictures fall off. Then, on the day I’m about to make the best sale of my life, you decide to play the fucking loudest, shittiest song I’ve ever heard, and don’t even have the decency to turn it down when I come in and ask politely! Who fucking does that? Apparently people like you-”

 

The man reached to turn a knob on the wall, and the music suddenly faded all throughout the parlor.

 

“What the hell are you going on about-” the man started to say in a mildly annoyed tone.

 

Rey didn’t stop herself soon enough.

 

“- _you absolute fucking prick!_ ” she finished angrily, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting with boiling rage.

 

The man’s face morphed into a bigger scowl at her words, dark eyes sparking in the red-tinted light of the room.

 

Rey was mortified, her cheeks the same crimson as the First Order’s logo that glowed on the wall. 

 

He hadn’t heard her.

 

Not until the last part, at least.

 

The woman, a short-haired blonde with colorful tattoo sleeves, had the gall to look amused as she sat up and re-hooked her bra, flashing a healthy amount of nipple - and nipple piercings - at a mortified Rey.

 

“I’ll have you finish the fill-in work later, Kylo,” the woman voiced, smirking slightly at Rey as she swayed out of the room clad in only a black bra and skintight leather pants.

 

Rey bit her lip, gnawing it between her teeth as she faced the man - Kylo apparently - she had just called a prick. Screamed at him, actually.

 

“What’s your fucking deal?” Kylo growled, actually growled, at her.

 

Rey decided not to beat around the bush. She’d already insulted him to his face, after all. This couldn’t possibly get any worse.

 

“My fucking deal, mate, is that you play your shit music so loud everyday that it’s affecting our business and my sanity.”

 

“Your business?” he questioned, bemused. “Wait, the flower store?” His lip curled in disgust.

 

“Yes, the flower store,” Rey sneered back, gesturing vaguely to the left towards said shop. “And _the flower store_ ,” she emphasized, “is sick of your shit. Turn down your damn music or I’m calling the police and making a noise complaint.”

 

His plush lips pulled up into a smirk that made Rey want to slap it off his face. His eyes were trained on her like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the moment she slipped up to pounce without mercy.

 

As he rose to his full height, Rey swallowed slightly. He was so tall, towering over her easily. It made her feel even more idiotic, out of place - like a child.

 

He wasn’t just tall though, but _large_ , built with hard muscle underneath his black band shirt. Thick, corded arms bedecked with tats that rippled slightly as he pushed himself up. (Rey suddenly blushed at the thought that manifested in her head - one of her tracing those tattoos with her tongue)

 

His words snapped her back to the present, thoughts of tongues and tattoos far behind her.

 

“Good luck with that - I’ve probably tatted almost every one of them in the precinct.”

 

Rey didn’t back up from his predatory stalk forward, not wanting to admit defeat.

 

“In fact, go ahead and call,” Kylo demanded, staring down at her in annoyance and disdain.

  
Rey let out a huff of anger, eyes narrowed.

 

“Fine! I  _will_.”

 

And with that, she swept out of the room, cheeks stained red and fists clenched white.

 

She was absolutely _shaking_ in anger, something that rarely happened.

 

_How dare he!_

 

Rey stomped back into the shop more aggressively than she’d left it, both Finn and Leia’s curious and startled gazes trained on her.

 

“Rey...what the hell?” Finn asked, seemingly at a loss for words.

 

“They’re ruining everything with that freaking music, that’s what,” Rey growled back, grabbing her cell phone from where she locked it up while she was working.

 

The number was half-way dialed when a pissed-off Kylo barged in, eyes gleaming with annoyance, and face twisted into a scowl.

 

“You-“ he started, pointing at Rey, before his eyes took in the other people present.

 

He froze as he saw Leia, stiffening noticeably. He even had the gall to look surprised.

 

Rey stepped forwards, ready to defend Leia to her dying breath.  She wasn’t sure what he was about to do, but how dare he look at Leia like that? Was he going to insult their clientele? 

 

But, defying all expectations, Kylo instead said the last thing Rey would ever guess.

 

“ _Mom_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petunia Flower Meaning: "The petunia flower symbolizes anger and resentment especially when they are presented by someone with whom one has recently had a heated disagreement."


	2. Aster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama Leia comes out to play + Chastised Kylo

 

Amazing fanart made by @hobicat on Tumblr for Effloresce Ch.2!

* * *

 

Leia’s face morphed into a beaming smile just as Rey’s jaw dropped.

 

“Be-”

 

Leia cut herself off, though Rey didn’t know why.  

 

“Kylo,” she said instead, opening her arms to him. “What a lovely surprise!”

 

Rey thought the hug was awkward enough with Kylo towering a good two feet above Leia, but he made it even more awkward by visibly stiffening at the contact.

 

Unbothered, Leia pressed her head tighter to his chest and latched on. And, after a time, Kylo finally patted his mother’s back in a rather awkward manner.

 

Over their forms, Rey and Finn exchanged bewildered glances.

 

Leia pulled back only after a good minute, reaching up to tug Kylo down to her height by his shirt.

 

“What do you have to say for not talking to your mother in so long?” she barked, punctuating the question with a mild tug on his ear.

 

His face flushed slightly, at both her actions and that they had an audience looking on.

 

“I’ve been busy, Mom,” he muttered, straightening again and dusting imaginary lint off of his shirt.

 

“Too busy for the woman who gave you life?” Leia snapped, raising an eyebrow as her hands planted themselves on her waist.

 

“No! I just-”

 

“Mmhmm,” Leia hummed disbelievingly before he could finish, eyeing him sharply.

 

Kylo’s eyes rolled, seemingly familiar with Leia’s mannerisms.

 

“What are you doing here, mother?”

Leia’s sighed, shaking her head.

 

“If you bothered to check your messages, _Kylo_ , you would know that your father and I are renewing our wedding vows. I’m here to look at flower arrangements.”

 

Kylo’s face scrunched up in annoyance at Leia’s words, but Rey wasn’t sure at exactly what.

 

“I want to say I’m surprised that you’ve been causing Rey such problems, but I’m not,” Leia continued, grabbing her buzzing phone to answer a call - probably from one of her many wedding clients.

 

Kylo, as if remembering Rey was there, cast his gaze on her (who suddenly wished Leia hadn’t brought her up at all).

 

Caught in his gaze, Rey halfheartedly noticed that his eyes weren’t black, but actually a deep molten brown.

 

She didn’t like it. Such kind eyes shouldn’t be wasted on such a horrid man.

 

Rey frowned deeper as Kylo remained staring at her, Finn stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder protectively.

 

She leaned into the touch slightly, as if drawing strength from it.

 

“Hello, traitor,” Kylo suddenly quipped, eyeing the man where he stood next to Rey.

 

Rey’s brows furrowed in confusion, casting a glance to Finn to see what this was all about.

  
“Kylo,” Finn gritted out, forcing himself to be civil for Leia’s sake.

 

“Wait - you two _know_ each other?!” Rey exclaimed, throwing civility out the window.

 

Kylo’s face broke into a pretentious smirk, casting his amused gaze on Finn and raising a brow.

 

“So, you never told them? Embarrassed?”  
  
Finn’s lips twitched, yearning to scowl but settling for a stony expression. “I used to work for First Order Tattoos before I...left.”

 

Rey turned to Finn with a hanging jaw, Leia looking considerably surprised as well judging by the raising of her eyebrows as she hung up her phone.

 

Kylo’s lips twisted even higher, endlessly amused.

 

“Left? I thought it was ‘defected’? To work for that dark-haired boy of yours, if I remember correctly.”

 

Finn’s hand on Rey’s shoulder tightened painfully, though she didn’t think he realized.

 

“His _name_ is Poe,” Finn barked. “And you can go right to hell, you f-”

 

“That’s enough,” Leia interrupted in a normal tone, yet somehow managing to command the entire room with the Force behind her words.

 

Finn struggled to control his rampant breathing and shaking form beside Rey, while Kylo still had yet to wipe the smug look from his face.

 

“You.”

Leia turned to Finn, putting the arrangement book in his hands with a _thump_.

 

“You’re in charge of going through this and compiling all the starred arrangements into a list coordinated by color scheme and ornamentation.”

 

Finn immediately nodded, like a dutiful soldier taking orders, before he even realized what was said to him. He’d stopped shaking too.

 

Leia turned away, facing Rey.

 

“Rey, you’re in charge of compiling all my orders and having them ready for pickup - starting with about 1200 dusty pink Alderaanian roses for my invites.”

 

Rey’s eyes widened, but she wisely chose to say nothing, instead nodding and looking down to study her overalls in intense concentration.

 

“And _you_ , Ben Solo” Leia said, finally turning to look at her son with a severe look. “You’re going to make it up to your mother and drive all my orders to and from the house. Additionally, you’ll be my go-to person here, considering the fact you work just next door.”

 

Kylo - Ben? - opened his mouth to protest, anger brewing in his dark eyes, but his mother leveled such a look of severity at him that even Rey flinched.

 

That Leia could bring to heel her rampage of a son had Rey equally impressed and reverent of the woman. But why had she called him Ben? Was Kylo his middle name? Had he changed his name?

 

“What’s more, you will be kind and polite to Rey, Finn, _and_ Poe. After all, you’ll be seeing them quite regularly.”

 

Rey wanted to protest now, and from the look Finn cast her, he wasn’t happy with this either.

 

However, they were not about to contest Leia, who had paused and was staring at Kylo with an expectant gaze.

 

Kylo, after an intense staredown with his mother, resorted to rolling his eyes and nodding in acquiescence, fists slightly clenched at his sides.

 

Leia’s face broke out into a smile, her sternness behind her as soon as it had manifested. She grabbed her designer bag and slid on her sunglasses,

 

“Alright, well, I’m going to go look at overpriced wedding dresses that I’ll wear once and then throw in the back of my closet.”

 

She grabbed Rey and Finn in a tight hug - so _strong_ for such a small woman.

 

She patted Kylo on the shoulder lovingly, despite him looking like a petulant child.

 

“Bye kids - play nice!”

 

Leia, in the doorway, suddenly turned slightly to look at her son as if she’d remembered something.

 

“And _Kylo_?” She said his name like the cracking of a whip, like it was a joke and an insult rolled into one.

 

Her son’s eyes narrowed as if he knew exactly what she was going to say.

 

“Turn down your damn metal music before your mother has to come in and embarrass you in front of all your ‘cool’ friends.”

 

And with that, Leia Organa Solo swept out of the store, a storm in and of herself.

 

\- - -

 

After watching his mother leave, Kylo turned to look at Rey and the traitor, trying to keep his temper in check.

 

Hux, having walked in to find another room trashed by Kylo’s temper, was pissed to say the least. Upon hearing that Rey was going to call in a noise complaint on them, he’d forced Kylo to go over to the flower shop and “ _apologize like you damn well mean it. Get on your knees and beg if you have to_.”

  
The comment was followed by a wolf whistle from a still-shirtless Phasma, and a myriad of teasing comments about ‘Kylo on his knees for some flower girl’ from Mitaka and Torben.

 

Kylo had gone over of course, knowing that he wasn’t going to apologize - but Hux didn’t need to know that.

 

And while he hadn’t expected to apologize, he sure as hell hadn’t expected to find his mother _and_ the traitor alongside the flower girl.

 

Speaking of...

 

The traitor was pointedly ignoring Kylo’s presence by organizing some flowers, but was peeking at them out of the corner of his eye, probably making sure no harm would come to the girl - to Rey. She, however, was glaring right at him.

 

“Any day now,” she prompted, hand on her hip.

 

He hadn’t noticed when she was yelling at him, having been too angry, but her voice held the posh lilt of an English accent.

 

“What?” he snapped, brows furrowing at her expectant expression, having gotten distracted.

 

“My apology. I’m waiting.”

 

At her words, he grit his teeth, trying not to bite her head off - for Leia’s sake.

 

“You’ll be waiting a long time, flower girl.”

 

At the nickname, Rey scowled, approaching his form angrily, a flurry of words flying from her lips that would've made even a sailor blush.

 

“Look Mr. Hot Shot, I don’t know who you think you are or where you’re getting this nerve, but from now on you do as I tell you, okay?”

 

He could feel his jaw drop, before it clenched up again.

 

“ _Look,_ ” he stressed. “I’m only here as a favor for Leia, and I’m not apologizing to someone who cursed me out for my shop’s music, which, I’ll have you know, _I’m not in charge of_.”

 

Rey seemed to pause, as if suddenly remembering what she’d done earlier, as well as processing his words.

  
Finally, with a disgruntled huff, she stook out one tan, freckled hand angrily, short nails caked under with dirt.

 

Kylo eyed it distrustfully, as if she was going to suddenly punch him at any second (Rey didn’t discount the thought, to be honest).

 

Instead, though, she rolled her eyes at him.

 

“If neither of us are going to apologize to the other, then we might as well get over it. For Leia’s sake. Now, I’m Rey.”

 

Surprised - and, against his control, impressed - he studied her hand for another long moment before meeting it with his own.

 

He couldn’t help but notice how small her hand was in his, how much he engulfed it with his own.

 

How could such a tiny woman be so full of fire - and so creative with foul language?

 

Leia had a mouth of her own, and he'd heard quite the combination of curses in his day, but the Brit was flinging out words he'd never heard before.

 

“Now go away,” Rey ordered, turning away to help Finn finish with the carnations.

 

Kylo was glad she turned away, because his jaw once more popped open in surprise against his control.

 

He did as she asked, however, needing to return to his clients and hope that he didn’t have to work overtime.

 

Alas, he did have to make up for his time, and every second of it was spent mulling over his mother, her upcoming vows to his sperm donor (he wouldn’t call that man his father), and a spitfire, foul-mouthed Brit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Aster Flower Meaning: Deep Mystery or the Revelation of Truth"


	3. Daffodil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is a literal trash baby - but she's good with cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter to make up for not posting in a while. With exams coming up, as well as trying to keep on top of the 25 days of Reylo prompts posted here, it's been tough to find time to write. However, I do plan on trying to finish this over winter break (as well as get a start on my new fanfic I've been planning which I'll announce soon - here's a hint: Russia)

Rey saw Kylo again sooner than she would’ve thought.

 

Two days later, she was behind First Order tattoos, grabbing the shipping crates they left by the garbage.

 

The back door suddenly swung open, making Rey jump.

 

Kylo paused, raising a brow at her rooting around near their garbage, leaning his large form against the door frame.

 

He crossed his arms over his broad chest in a relaxed manner. The action made his arms ripple, the tattoos covering them seeming to come to life, to dance across his muscled biceps.

 

“What are you doing, flower girl?”

 

Rey flushed slightly at his bewildered yet cockily amused face, before straightening and placing her hands on her hips.

 

“I’m on my break collecting the wooden crates you carelessly throw out.”

 

Kylo furrowed his brows.

 

“First of all, I'm not the one who throws them out. Secondly, why?”

 

Rey’s eyes rolled.

 

“Not that you would know, but it’s wasteful to throw away perfectly good crates. I️ repurpose them - paint them white and then display flowers in them.”

 

Kylo’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh at her, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

 

“I️ never took you for a scavenger,” he said instead.

 

Rey’s nose scrunched at the title, disliking the word coming from his lips.

 

“I️ repurpose, I️ don’t scavenge.”

 

Kylo looked pointedly towards the crates she’d compiled from around the trash bins.

 

Rey flushed deeper, grabbing her crates, as many as she could carry anyways, and stomping back towards the flower shop’s rear entrance.

 

“What are you doing out here anyways?” Rey snapped, as she unsuccessfully tried to open the door with her hands full.

 

She gave a huff of annoyance, making to set down her armful.

 

An amused chuckle met her ears before a large hand was reaching in front of her to open said door.

 

“Thanks,” she muttered grudgingly under her breath.

 

“No problem, scavenger. And to answer your question, I️ was coming out for a smoke break.”

 

Rey scrunched up her nose again, as if suddenly smelling the smoke on him.

 

“Smoking’s a bad habit,” she informed him as she sat down the crates just inside the doorway.

 

“Not when you only have one cigarette a year,” Kylo intoned, pulling out said death stick and placing it between his lips.

 

Rey cast him a bewildered yet unamused look.

 

“One a year? Do you do it to be ironic then? Mr. ‘Look at me I’m so cool’?”

 

Kylo’s face twisted into a scowl, unamused by her words.

 

“I️ don’t need to explain myself to you, scavenger.”

 

Rey shrugged, acting nonchalant.

 

A smile twitched at her lips as she bent down to shove the crates farther inside and pretended to leave.

 

“I️ guess I’ll just go on believing you’re trying to prove you’re cool to all your little friends.”

 

Kylo gave a low growl at the back of his throat, stopping her movement forward with one large hand to her shoulder.

 

“It’s the day Han Solo ruined my life, okay? Think of it as me holding a personal pity party for my 18-year-old self. Happy now, you nosy Brit?”

 

Rey hadn’t expected that, and though it sounded like something a drama queen would do, her amused smile fell immediately.

 

“Ruined your life? Han?” she asked disbelievingly, sure the older man wasn’t capable of such a thing.

 

Kylo rolled his eyes but nodded, pulling out a lighter and lighting up the cigarette, taking one long, slow drag.

 

“How?” Rey asked, curiosity always getting the best of her. She sat on the steps leading up to the back entrance, awaiting his answer.

 

Kylo shot her a look, but sighed as he saw she was going nowhere, dropping down beside her on the steps.

 

“How didn’t he?” Kylo bit out bitterly, but at Rey’s imploring gaze he sighed and continued.

 

“Today was the day Han told me I️ was going to go to college and get my degree in business or I️ was getting kicked out.”

 

Rey paused, his statement not sounding like Han at all.

 

“Well, I’m sure he did it out of love,” Rey insisted, simultaneously trying to convince Kylo and herself.

 

Kylo snorted in derision at her words, taking another deep drag from his cigarette.

 

“So Han kicked you out then?” Rey ventured, hesitantly, not wanting to overstep but still so curious.

 

Kylo snorted again.

 

“That’s the funny part. I️ went to college and majored in business.”

 

Rey’s eyes widened almost comically.

 

“So...”

 

She trailed off, unsure of how to ask without sounding like a complete bitch.

 

“Why am I️ working at a tattoo parlor?” Kylo finished her thought.

 

Rey nodded, biting at her thumb nail while she awaited his answer.

 

A casual shrug, then-

 

“I️ was too scared to be kicked out at 18 so I️ did what Han said. I️ haven’t talked to him since I️ enrolled - excepting a few Christmas spats where Leia tried to force us all together again. I told myself if he was willing to kick me out at 18, then he wouldn’t care if he didn’t see me anyways. And now, I’m doing this, working here-“

 

Rey understood now, despite the decision being rooted in an almost child-like pettiness.

 

“Because even though you went and got your degree, it’ll spite him more if you don’t do anything worthwhile with it,” Rey finished.

 

Kylo didn’t respond, staring at the piles of packaged soil and flower feed that littered the back lot of Dear Daisy.

 

Rey was surprised at the heat that radiated off of him beside her, clad in only jeans and a t-shirt, despite the freezing January weather. Rey herself was bundled up in so many layers that she vaguely resembled a marshmallow, nose and cheeks rosy with cold.

 

“These things taste like shit,” Kylo muttered after a while, seemingly about to throw the cigarette out.

 

“Wait!”

 

He turned his dark gaze on her, curious.

 

"Can I...try it?"

 

His face a mixture of surprise and entertained amusement, he handed it to her.

 

Rey cautiously brought it up to her lips, wrapping them around the foreign smoking thing and taking a deep breath in.

 

Though she relished the warmth of the smoke, she immediately started hacking, coughing out the disgusting taste that invaded her throat like an acrid cloud.

 

“That’s fucking disgusting,” she commented in between coughs, tears welling in her eyes at how hard she was coughing.

 

Kylo chuckled, taking the cigarette back from her and wrapping his lips around it once more.

 

Rey tried not to think about the fact that his lips were where hers had been only moments ago.

 

When her coughing had finally subsided, she turned to him.

 

“I️ never thought I’d try a fag before,” Rey commented, now making Kylo choke on his next pull from the cigarette.

 

“What?” Rey asked, confused.

 

“That word has a different meaning here than where you’re from,” he chastised, full on laughing now.

 

“Oh.”

 

Rey made a note to look it up later, chuckling rather contagiously alongside him.

 

Kylo had a nice laugh, she objectively noticed, deep and rumbling. His smile, too, transformed his face; taking the brooding scowl of the narcissistic asshole and transforming him into an almost approachable human being.

 

“Rey, could you-“ a voice started to say from behind them, before cutting itself off.

 

Both parties turned to see Finn staring down at them from the doorway, a look between surprise and annoyance crossing his features.

 

“Oh,” he finally said, eyes hard as he took in Kylo. His face scrunched up in further disgust at seeing Kylo holding a cigarette.

 

Rey stood up so quickly she almost felt dizzy, facing Finn with what looked like guilt stamped across her face.

 

“Yes? Finn?” she prompted.

 

Finn finally turned his gaze to her.

 

“Could you help me prune?”

 

Kylo snorted at the sentence, garnering him another enraged glance from Finn.

 

With that, Kylo stood, blowing a puff of smoke in Finn’s general direction, before winking at Rey and sauntering away.

 

“Bye scavenger,” he called out, stomping out the cigarette with his motorcycle boots, before entering the tattoo parlor once more.

 

Finn turned to face Rey with the face of motherly consternation.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Rey blinked.

 

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I️ be?”

 

Finn gestured broadly towards the tattoo shop, intent clear.

 

“We were just talking Finn. _Civilly_ ,” she stressed.

 

“Civility aside, he’s still an asshole,” Finn commented.

 

Rey was tempted to ask about the working at First Order but decided against it. Now wasn’t the time.

 

“Asshole or not, we still have to work with him, Finn. For Leia.”

 

Finn’s mouth twisted but he nodded, holding the door for her to enter inside.

 

“I just don’t understand how such a jerk comes from such a lovely woman,” Finn muttered as the door closed behind him, but Rey pretended not to hear.

 

* * *

 

 Thankfully, the next time Rey and Kylo Ren crossed paths, she wasn’t going through the FO’s trash.

 

Turning the lock into place on the back door, she pocketed the shop key and descended the stairs carefully. She headed towards the back parking lot and around to catch the bus to her apartment.

 

She dreaded the cold winter walk, over a mile to the bus station.

 

Usually, Finn drove her home as he lived barely four blocks away from her, but he had a date with Poe tonight, and Rey wasn’t about to ruin that with her lack of transportation.

 

So public transport it was.

 

As she walked across the lot, the sudden sound of a _grr grr grr click click click_ made Rey’s head pop up.

 

She knew that sound.

 

Sure enough, ahead of her in the employee parking lot, a man sat in his car, hitting the steering wheel angrily with his hand.

 

“Fucking stupid car-“ Rey heard the man growl as she got closer. His voice, if not his propensity for swearing, gave him away.

 

“Car trouble?” Rey quipped, propping herself up against his BMW with a hand on the black body.

 

Kylo, to his credit, didn’t jump, just looked mildly annoyed at her presence.

 

“Obviously, scavenger,” he bit out, voice sharp but not directed at her so much as at his situation.

 

Rey clicked her tongue condescendingly, shaking her head in mild amusement.

 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” she asked then, testing him and his knowledge.

 

Kylo sat back in his seat with a huff, eyeing the dashboard with aggrieved annoyance.

 

“That clicking sound means the battery’s affected, but the car’s not drained - it still has its lights.”

 

Rey, impressed with his general knowledge of cars, nodded in agreement.

 

“Did you check the battery posts? The cable connectors?”

 

Kylo finally met her eyes, looking indignant.

 

“Of course I did,” he insisted.

 

Rey smirked.

 

“And by that, you mean a resounding ‘no’, right?”

 

She didn’t wait for an answer, instead moving to the front of the car and looking under the already-propped hood.

 

“Could you do something useful and hold a flashlight or something?”

 

Kylo begrudgingly exited his car, taking up as vigilante behind her as he trained his phone’s flashlight on the inner workings of the car.

 

Rey studied it closely, eyeing the posts and their condition.

 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed to herself, slinging off her cloth messenger bag and rooting around in it for a minute.

 

Finally, she brandished what looked like a wire toothbrush in the air.

 

“Found it!” she crowed, before setting to work scrubbing the grime and rust off of the connectors and posts.

 

“You just keep that in your purse?”

 

“Bag,” Rey corrected, still scrubbing. “And yes, who doesn’t?”

 

Kylo decided not to reply.

 

“Try it again?”

 

The car made less clicking sounds, but still wouldn’t start.

 

With determination, Rey pulled out some vaseline and smeared it along the parts, rubbing it in vigorously.

 

“There, try it now,” she ordered, wiping her hands clean of the grease with a rag she pulled from her bag as well.

 

Muttering under his breath, Kylo went back to the driver’s seat and turned the key, hearing the engine give a last _grr_ before starting as normal.

 

“Thanks,” Kylo said, rather gruffly, his large body leaning slightly out of the driver’s side.

 

“No problem,” Rey responded with a nonchalant shrug.

 

“No, really. Thank you,” he stressed, eyes dark and serious in the night shadows.

 

“It’s not a big deal.”

 

An awkward silence descended, and Rey shifted uncomfortably.

 

Rey finally shot him a stiff smile, before turning to make the mile walk towards the bus station.

 

“Wait! Where’s your car?”  He scanned the lot, empty save for his own car.

 

Rey turned with a raised brow.

 

“I don’t have a car.”

 

He got out of the car now, closing the door and leaning against it, hunching against the chill wind that blew through the lot.

  
Why he didn’t wear a coat was beyond Rey.

 

“The scavenger can fix _my_ car but doesn’t have one of her own?”

  
  
A blush colored Rey’s cheeks, indignant, though she hoped he couldn’t tell - that he just thought her cheeks rosy from the cold.

 

“Where are you going then?” Kylo asked, saving Rey from her embarrassment.

 

“To the bus station.”

 

“On 5th? That’s over 20 blocks from here!”

 

Rey cast him an annoyed glance.

 

“If you’d let me be on my way, I’d get there faster!”

 

Kylo shook his head.

 

“I’m not about to let you walk to the bus station, at night, in the freezing cold.”

 

“I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, some sane people wear these things called _coats_.” Rey flipped up the collar of her coat to make a point.

 

Kylo rolled his eyes, and once again got back in his car, leaning over to the passenger side to open its door.

 

“Get in.”

 

Rey shook her head.

 

“No, thank you. I’ll walk.”

 

“Rey-” he protested.

 

“Oh, stop being sexist. I can defend myself. I’ll be fine.”

 

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

 

“What, are you scared some _big, bad monster_ is going to get me?” she asked, childishly.

 

She surprised herself by snorting.

 

“Besides, the only monster I see around here is you. What are you - 6’4?”

 

Kylo’s face was pinched in frustration. “6’3, and I’m not letting you walk alone at night that far, _scavenger_.”

 

“And I’m not letting you drive me, _monster_. End of discussion. _Good night_.”

 

With that, she stomped away, coat bundled tight around her form.

 

She could hear the harsh slamming of his car doors, followed by the angry pealing of his car out of the lot, thankfully in the opposite direction she was walking.

 

Rey, as she’d predicted, encountered no problems on her walk to the bus station, not seeing a single soul in the area.

  
But, despite all rational thought, as Rey climbed onto the bus, she _swore_ she caught a glimpse of a black BMW, driving away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daffodil Flower Meaning: “Growing regard, respect, or chivalry for another”


	4. Yellow Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stubborn Idiot and the Stubborn Brit go on a flower delivery run for a plotting-and-planning Leia. Friendship (???) and reunions ensue.
> 
>  
> 
> Let's be honest - the most important thing in this chapter is Kylo seeing Chewie again. Goddamn my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo in his trenchcoat [ here ](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/08/19/article-2728994-20A331D700000578-236_634x853.jpg)

“And they’re all ready to ship out?”

  
  
Leia’s voice over the phone was calm in Rey’s ear, her gruff yet soothing tones reminding Rey of simpler times when she only knew Leia and not her rebellious monster of a son.

 

“Yes. All 1200 of them.”

  
  
Rey referred to the 12 boxes of dusty Alderaanian roses that crowded the gigantic storage fridge in their back room.

 

“Thank you, Rey. I knew that you were just the right person for this task.”

 

Flushing slightly, Rey promised Leia that it was nothing and that she had been happy to do it.

 

“Okay dear, I’ll just call Kylo and have him pick them up on his lunch break then.”

 

Rey’s eyes widened.

 

“No, I could-”

 

“Have a beautiful day, dear. Bye!”

  
  
Leia hung up conveniently in the middle of Rey’s protests.

 

Rey was sure she hadn’t done it on purpose….right?

 

Either way, it didn’t matter, when, approximately 30 minutes later, Kylo Ren showed up.

 

She didn’t notice him at first, turned and bent down behind the counter, reorganizing their orders.

 

A voice clearing alerted her, and she whipped around.

 

“Sorry! How may I help-”

 

Rey cut herself off as she found the black-clad form of Kylo Ren behind her counter.

 

“Oh, it’s you.”

 

Kylo quirked a brow, flashing her a look of amusement.

 

“Not excited to see me, _scavenger_?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Rey went to the back room to gather Leia’s already VioBox-ed flowers.

 

“Not at all, _monster_.”

 

Much to her dismay, he followed her, and when she hefted the heavy box of about 100 roses, he almost immediately took it from her.

 

“How many of these things are there?” he questioned, hefting the box like it weighed nothing.

 

“Twelve,” Rey intoned, grabbing another box.

 

Kylo’s face became bewildered, eyebrows scrunching.

 

“I can’t fit twelve of these in my car. I only have a two-seater, and my trunk definitely won’t fit all these.”

  
  
Rey set her flowers back down with a thud, turning to him accusatorily.

 

“Well, Leia said you’d be picking them up - how you do it isn’t  _my_ problem.”

 

Kylo narrowed his eyes at her, but set his VioBox down alongside hers, pulling out his phone from his black trench coat’s pocket.

 

At least he was wearing a jacket today, Rey mused half-heartedly. She _didn’t_ admit to herself that he looked quite nice in it.

 

“Mom? How the hell am I supposed to get twelve boxes of these plants to you? My car barely fits four!”

 

Leia’s voice warbled over the phone, having been put on speaker.

 

“Use Dear Daisy’s delivery truck.”

  
  
Rey was already shaking her head at Kylo’s inquiring glance towards her.

 

“Finn and Poe took it out to deliver Karen’s wedding arrangements, remember Leia?”

 

Leia made a sound that Rey interpreted as remembering her client’s delivery going out today.

 

Rey crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot.

 

It wasn’t like Leia to forget that _her own client_ was having her flowers delivered today - not like her _at all_.

 

“Well, I guess I can call your father and see if you can use the Falcon.”

 

Kylo’s face closed off, and Leia was immediately taken off speaker. He walked a distance away, his voice whispering harshly into the phone.

 

Rey occupied herself with checking the VioBoxes ambient temperature and hydration, satisfied to see both were at a good level for the roses inside.

 

Kylo came back into the room with harsh step, shoving his phone back into his coat’s pocket.

 

“Leia wants us to drive to their house and grab the Falcon. It can fit all twelve crates.”

 

Rey opened her mouth to protest at her inclusion, but he beat her to it.

  
“Before you throw a fit, Leia said she wants you with me all the way in case I see _Han_ , and because, otherwise, I’ll ‘fuck up her beautiful roses’.”

 

Rey grappled for an excuse, any excuse, but found that she couldn’t think of any that wouldn’t result in Leia’s anger at her abandoning her 1200 _expensive_ roses.

 

And Rey couldn’t afford to lose Leia’s patronship of their company, though she doubted that Leia would be so harsh as to do so.

 

Further, Rey had seen an angry Leia Organa once, and she was not keen to see it _ever_ again.

 

With a resounding sigh, Rey placed the two VioBoxes back into the fridge and locked it.

 

* * *

 

 “Looks like I got you in my car anyway,” Kylo mused, on their way to Han and Leia’s house.

 

It had begun to snow earlier, and now intricate flakes stuck to the windows of his car, eventually melting and streaming down in rivulets.

 

Rey tapped her fingers against the side console in annoyance, her leg jiggling _up and down up and down up and down_ -

 

Kylo reached over a hand to still her jean-clad thigh, eyes still focused on the snow-dusted roads.

 

“You’re making the car shake. Stop it.”

 

Rey did as he said, yet moved her thigh away from his large, hot hand.

 

“Look,” he finally began. “I know with how we started out, we’re never going to be best friends, but we should at least try to be _friends_ if we’re going to be helping Leia so often.”

 

Rey thought about his words, face stoic.

 

“Finn won’t like that.”

 

Kylo rolled those brown eyes of his, something Rey had grown accustomed to seeing from him.

 

“Do you let Finn tell you who you can and can’t be friends with?”

 

Rey frowned, a small line appearing between her brows. Yet she finally nodded after a good couple of minutes.  

 

“Okay.”

Kylo glanced at her for a second, nodding his head similarly in affirmation.

 

“Okay. Good.” He took a turn, the wheel looking childlike in his large hands. Outside, snowy forest flashed by, and Rey was pleasantly surprised that his parents’ house was in such a beautiful and arboreal area.

 

He cleared his throat. “We should probably get to know each other then.”

 

Rey immediately opened her mouth to ask a question that had plagued her since she’d known him.

 

“Why do you call your mother Leia all the time except when you're around her? That’s the only time you call her Mom or mother.”

 

Kylo’s brown eyes widened slightly, his plush red lips parting.

  
She’d surprised him.

 

Nevertheless, he schooled his face back into an expression of complacency once more.

 

“You go right for the throat, don’t you?”

  
  
Rey shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

“I guess it goes back to when I was about 16. I had taken to using her first name, calling her Leia, with everyone else. One day, during a fight, I called her by her name too. That was the angriest I’d ever seen her.”

 

He paused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

 

“I can still remember what she said. ‘Ben Organa Solo, I didn’t go through 9 months of waiting and thirteen hours of labor for you to call me anything but your mother.’ Then she didn’t talk to me for the next week - not out of spite, no, but because she couldn’t, I guess.”

 

Kylo blinked, as if he’d just realised everything he’d just said to her.

 

“Anyways, I wouldn't make that mistake ever again. Leia angry is something that could burn the world down.”

 

Rey silently agreed. He shot her a quick glance, a small smile on his face despite his melancholy words.

 

Rey had a bunch more questions, mostly relating to Finn, but instead she asked what had been bothering her ever since Leia had called him Ben in the shop on that first day.

 

“Why do you go by Kylo Ren?” she implored, but he only smirked and shook his head.

 

“Ah ah ah, it’s my turn, scavenger.”

 

Rey huffed, but grudgingly nodded for him to continue.

 

“Tell me about the flower shop - why work there?”

 

Rey cast him an amused look.

 

“Why work at the tattoo parlor?”

 

At Kylo’s stoic expression though, she sighed and continued.

 

“Growing up in England, I lived in quite barren areas. It was more sand and infertile grit in crappy boroughs than soil and gardens in picturesque suburbs.”

 

She watched the snow flutter outside, flurries dancing past her window.

 

“So when I moved here, I immediately started a garden with what little money I had. It had so many varieties, so much color and life, and even though I knew almost nothing about flowers, they grew beautifully. Green thumb and all, I guess. Poe drove past it everyday on his way to the shop, saw me tending to it one day, and asked if I’d like a job.”

 

She shrugged.  “And that was that.”

 

Kylo nodded, secretly wishing he wasn’t driving when he’d asked her that, the slight glance he’d caught of her face demonstrating the true passion she felt for flowers -  for living, growing things. She looked like she went somewhere far away when she talked of them - she looked _happy_.

 

Another question bounced on Rey’s lips, but Kylo took a final turn and she forgot it.

 

His eyes focused on the house whose driveway they had just pulled into, long and winding. No other residences were near his parents’, the last one about five minutes behind them.

 

It was a large three-story, quaint despite its size. It was the same pristine white as the snow that covered the ground and roof. The forest surrounded it on all sides, beautiful and hidden.

 

“Home sweet home,” Kylo muttered, parking the car to the side of the garage.

 

Turning to her, Kylo ran a hand through his dark locks. Though he tried to hide it, Rey could see the clear anxiety in his posture - the stiffness of his frame, the continued messing with his hair.

 

“ _He_ shouldn’t be home so I’ll just go grab the keys and be back out in a second.”

 

By the way Kylo said ‘He’, Rey knew he must be referring to Han.

 

“I’ll leave it running for you,” he continued, with a glance at her still bundled-up form. Two sweaters and a puffer coat, rosy cheeks and nose.

 

“Oh no, you don’t have to-”

 

But Kylo was already exiting the car and making his way up the snow-covered walk.

 

Rey shifted down in the seat, inwardly glad he’d left the car running and blasting the heat.

 

* * *

 

Walking into his childhood home caused many emotions to stir within him.

 

Sadness, anger, regret, anxiety.

 

Perhaps his anxiousness was the most heightened, as he hadn’t been here since he’d left at 18 except for a few bad Christmases that had ended, as usual, with him and Han having a spat. And even then he’d been here for less than an hour.

 

But, as he eased open the door to the place he’d called home for so long, the first thing he noticed was the smell.

 

An odd thing to remember, but that same smell of cinnamon and jasmine overwhelmed his senses. But another smell was missing - motor oil.

 

 _Good_ , Kylo thought to himself. _He’s not here._

 

Hurriedly, Kylo shut the door, tapping his feet clear from snow and slush.

 

Crossing the living room and into the kitchen, he reached into the little bowl that had held the keys since he was a toddler.

 

When he was little, Kylo had loved to take his parents keys and hide them all over the house. His mother had decided to use the little bowl on the kitchen counter to put the keys in, well out of reach of his three-year-old self. But the habit had stuck for all three of them.

 

Kylo conveniently found the keys to Han’s Falcon inside.

 

Grabbing them, he made to turn to leave, but just then, there was a joyful bark and a heavy weight hit him in the side like a ton of bricks. Rich fur met his hands, and a wet tongue managed a few swipes at the underside of his face, before Kylo gently pushed down his jumping childhood best friend.

 

“Hi, Chewie,” he greeted, chuckling, crouching down to bury his hands in his friend’s shaggy coat, ignoring the dry ache at the back of his throat.

 

He’d truly missed the mangy mutt.

 

Kylo ruffled the dog’s fur with his hands, accepting the happy face licks with a smile at his lips.

 

After a few minutes, Kylo sadly rose again. He’d already left Rey out in the car for too long - she was probably cold.

 

However, his movement stirred the air and Kylo finally smelled that annoyingly familiar scent of car parts and motor oil.

 

Freezing where he stood with his shoulders hunched, his fist clenched considerably around the keys.

 

A wet nose palmed at his clenched hand. 

 

“Kid?”

 

Taking a long, deep breath, Kylo turned to face Han for the first time in almost seven years.

 

Kylo was surprised by how old he looked, his hair and stubble grey, face lined with age.

 

Where had the Han Solo that Kylo had known gone?  (Not that Kylo had seen much of his father in his youth anyways). The man that stood in front of him still resembled Han, but...how had so much changed?

 

“Kid, what are you doing here?”

 

Han’s voice was gruff, hair every which way - he must have just woken up.

 

“I’m borrowing the Falcon,” Kylo bit out shortly, fist tightening even further around the keys, his other hand once more buried deep in Chewie’s shaggy brown fur. A lifeline, almost.

 

“Why?”

 

His father seemed unable to say anything more than asking basic questions.

 

“Mom needs a delivery made for the vow renewal invitations.”

 

“Oh.”

  
  
Han nodded, and the air was strife with awkward tension. A low keening whine sounded from Chewie who sensed the strain between them.

 

“I have to go.”

  
  
Kylo started to walk past him, not before giving Chewie one last pat, when a hand fell on his shoulder.

 

“Ben, wait. Stay a while.”

 

Kylo swallowed hard at his birth name coming from Han’s lips, the lump in his throat hindering him. He chanced a glance behind him.

 

“I can’t, I have someone waiting in the car.”

 

Han’s brows rose in surprise.

 

“A female someone? Invite her in - I’d love to meet her.”

 

“Some other time maybe.”

  
  
They both knew that was a lie.

 

“Are you sure? I could put on a cup of caf, we could talk-”

 

“I have to go, Han.”

 

His father’s face closed off at the use of his name. Chewie again whined subtly behind them, tail and ears drooping as if he, too, knew what had just occurred.

 

“Fine. Leave,” Han grumbled. Then, under his breath - “ _like usual_ ”.

 

Kylo whipped around, teeth gritted, and fists once again clenched around the car keys.

 

“ _I’m_ the one who leaves?! That’s rich coming from the man that wasn’t even there for me growing up!”

 

Han’s face morphed into an angry scowl. Chewie collapsed on the floor with a huff, as if to say ‘ _this again?’_

 

“I was there! I was working to support you and your mother!”

 

Kylo sneered at him.

 

“By work do you mean gambling and stripping cars illegally?”

 

Han’s face blanched, before hardening once more.

 

“I did what I could to keep this family fed! Everything I did was for you and Leia, kid!”

 

“Of course it was - look at forcing me to go to college instead of letting me live my life. Purely _selfless_.”

 

Kylo shook his head, not allowing him an answer.

 

“The keys will be under the mat. I’m not coming back in. See ya around, _Han_.”

 

The jab was cheap and harsh, but Kylo didn’t care. He swept out of the house, slamming the front door closed so hard behind him that the decorative wreath fell off.

 

Storming back to the car, he wrenched open the door and pulled his keys from the ignition so swiftly that Rey jumped slightly in surprise.

 

She scrambled out of the car as Kylo made his way over to the garage and opened the door with the key fob. Following him inside, she surveyed a Corellian YT-1300f, outdated for some time now.

 

“We’re driving this garbage?”

 

He shot her a harsh look. “Do you want a delivery car or not?” he growled.

 

His tone made Rey’s eyes widen.

 

“The garbage will do.”

 

Making a split second decision, he tossed the keys to Rey. He wasn’t in any emotional state to drive, and he didn’t want to put either of them in harm’s way.

  
  
Rey looked so stunned that she didn’t catch the keys, instead landing in a pile of snow near her.

 

“You can drive can’t you, scavenger?”

 

At his patronizing tone, Rey straightened with a glare.

 

“Of course I can _drive_.”

 

With that, she scooped up the keys and stomped to the driver’s side, getting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow Rose Meaning: 'Budding friendship; The reconciliation of friendship after an argument or distance.’


	5. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower girl and grumpy Kylo get stuck in the snow. Cuddling (???) and fighting ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Let’s just pretend that the car starting and then stalling later on is something that could happen for the purposes of this fic lol) Also, I picture the Falcon as an old FJ60 Land Cruiser by the way.

 

* * *

 

 

The drive from the house was tense, Kylo’s anger palpable in the confines of the car.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rey asked quietly, sure he would snap at her.

 

“ _No_.”

 

Kylo huffed, took an audible breath.

 

Then- “Thank you though.”

 

Rey, pleasantly surprised, only nodded her head in acquiescence.

 

“I don’t know how to get back to the flower shop from here,” she informed him, eyes on the snowy roads.

 

“Turn right up ahead.”

 

Rey did as told, the clunky car handling well despite its obvious age and wear.

 

Just as she’d thought that, the car gave a loud _clonk_ noise and their momentum stopped. She muttered a string of colourful curses, before allowing the car to drift onto the side of the road.

 

“Are you kidding me?” she grit out between clenched teeth, eyeing the car’s dash in disbelief.

 

“What is it with our cars breaking down?” Kylo grumbled, shifting lower in his seat, arms crossed like a petulant child.

 

“It’s probably just because of the cold. She needs to warm up more.”

 

“Would it help if I got out and pushed?” Kylo asked sarcastically, somehow sounding exactly like his mother.

 

“It might!” Rey snapped sarcastically back, opening up the door to get out and check.

 

With a harsh sigh, Kylo followed her.

 

Surveying beneath the hood, she narrowed in on the fuel line. Pressing a hand against it, she almost let out a hiss at the biting cold of the covering against her hand.

 

“It’s really cold. I don’t think the fuel is getting through.”

 

“What do you need to fix it? Do you want my lighter to warm it up?”

 

Rey cast him such a look that he backed up a bit. “What?” he snapped, obviously put out.

 

“You want to hold a _lighter_ to a _fuel line_? That transports _gasoline_? Do you _want_ to blow us up?”

 

Kylo flushed, crossing his arms. He muttered something under his breath, something about ‘finally being warm’. Shaking her head, Rey fiddled with the tight cap annoyedly, her ungloved fingers stiff and clumsy from the cold.

 

“How’d you learn how to do that anyways - fix up cars? You’re good at it.”

 

Rey raised a brow at his words, twisting at the fuel cap. It was cold and hard to move, practically frozen down to the car. Her hands were smeared with shiny black.

 

“Is that praise? Coming from Kylo Ren?”

 

He handed her a rag he’d grabbed, simultaneously rolling his eyes at her words, not deeming the snark with a response. Rey was forced to reply, not meeting his gaze as she wiped at her greasy hands.

 

“I had to earn my keep at a lot of my foster homes when I was little.”

 

She leaned over the car again, eyeing Kylo discreetly as surprise flitted across his features. His lips parted, looking like he wanted to say something, but she didn’t let him, reaching instead to hand him the finally-removed fuel cap.

 

His gaze narrowed on her face as she did, his stare startlingly intense, as if he could see why she wanted to avoid the subject.

 

Carefully, he reached up to swipe his thumb across the arch of her right cheekbone, both featherlight and yet insistent in the touch.

 

“Grease,” he comments in response to her shocked look.

 

Rey tries unsuccessfully to ignore the fact that she hadn’t touched her face with her dirty hands.

 

She determinedly turns back to the task at hand, prods at the fuel tank as the snow blows cold and silent around their hunched forms.

 

“You know, you can wait inside the car.”

 

Kylo stiffened at her suggestion, and shook his head.

 

“I’m not leaving you out here in the snow.”

 

Rolling her eyes at his fucked sense of chivalry, Rey moved to the back of the Falcon, popping open the bed. Thankfully, inside there was a veritable mechanic’s shop of tools and supplies. She scavenged around until she came up with a tube of thawing additive. Applying it liberally in the fuel tank, she closed the hood.

 

“So, we need to give it a good thirty minutes to flow before we try it again. We should really walk back to-”

 

“No,” Kylo interrupted, still pissed beyond belief at Han and not willing to see him again so soon.

 

Rey paused, wanting to argue, but finally sighed in defeat.

 

“Okay, I guess we stay here then. Are there any blankets in this rustbucket that we could use? It’s gonna get cold.”

 

Wordlessly, Kylo opened a side compartment and pulled out a huge quilt, but then looked between them.

 

“We’ll have to get in the back to share it.”

 

Wordlessly, the two crawled into the back seat bench of the Falcon. Keeping a good distance between them, the two wrapped in the blanket, which barely fit over Kylo’s large form being so far from Rey.

 

“I won’t bite,” he intoned, smirking at her. “Not unless you want me to.”

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

 

“Scared, scavenger?”

 

“No-” Rey protested, Kylo raising a brow at the strain in her voice.

 

Her face hardened at his look and she scooted closer, practically atop him.

 

“I’m _not_ scared.” Voice firm and strong.

 

“Oh, I know,” Kylo replied, smug.

 

Rey inwardly shook her head at how easily she’d fallen into his trap. Into his _lap,_ actually.

 

They sat in silence for a while, watching as the snow fell in torrents outside, already five to six inches on the ground - on the road.

 

“Did you and your Dad-”

 

Rey stopped and corrected herself. “Did you and Han have another fight, then?”

 

Kylo’s face fell back into a scowl, his fist clenching momentarily at her words.

 

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

 

Rey nodded. Yet...

 

“Okay. But if you ever want to-” she shook her head. “I mean, if you want to vent, I’m here.”

 

Kylo shot her a look, both hesitant and wary at her intentions, but her face was placid and innocent, if a bit confused at her own altruism.

 

Rey shrugged at the look he cast her. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”

 

Kylo felt his chest constrict slightly at her words.  She actually wanted to help.

 

His index finger tapped on his knee, trying to organize his tumultuous thoughts. Finally-

 

“He acts as if I’m the one distancing him - _he_ did it first.”

 

Rey raised a brow at his statement, lips flickering in a half-smile despite herself.

 

“You realize how childish you sound right now?”  

 

Her words weren’t unkind, but rather painfully honest. Kylo’s eyes narrowed in response.

 

“Don’t get mad,” Rey chided. “I’m just saying this ‘he did it first, so now I have to do it’ is a bit like primary school talk, and rather hypocritical of you.”

 

Kylo’s mouth snapped shut again, and though his mouth was a thin line of dislike, his eyes held a grudging respect for what the girl said.

 

“Even so, he instigated it.”

 

“How so?”

 

“When I refused to stay longer, he said ‘Fine. Leave then - _like usual_ ’.”

 

“And?”

 

Kylo spluttered, trying to wave a hand in the air angrily but only resulting in pulling the blanket off both of them as his hand got stuck in it.

 

“ _And_ that’s not only rude, but untrue!”

 

“He only said that because he was angry you didn’t stay to talk to him.”

 

Kylo looked aghast.

 

“We were going to deliver flowers for my mother! I’m on a schedule - I should be back at _work_ right now.”

 

Kylo inwardly groused that, not for the first time, this girl had inadvertently caused him to have to make up hours that he’d missed at the shop.

 

“Yes, I’m sure the only reason you couldn’t stay and talk with Han was because of your _tight_ schedule.”

 

Kylo, in a juvenile move, grabbed the blanket from her and pulled, leaving Rey with barely a corner of it.

 

“Stop being such a child,” Rey grit out, pulling at the blanket.

 

“Stop taking his side!”

 

Rey made an angry noise.

 

“Do you hear yourself right now? Grow up, Kylo. Face your father like a man, not an angry boy who holds seven year grudges and works at a tattoo shop in spite.”

 

He froze.

 

Rey was breathing rather heavily from pulling with all her considerable strength on the blanket - and also from chastising Kylo. Her breaths disrupted the tense air. Kylo himself was eerily quiet, fists clenched beneath the quilt.

 

“Give me back the goddamn blanket,” Rey muttered, pulling at it once again.

 

He let go so suddenly that Rey fell back from the momentum and hit her head on the window with a dull _thunk_.

 

Sitting back up, she shot a glare at him. Against his will, his lips _almost_ quirked in a show of amusement.

 

Repositioning herself once more against the seat bench, Rey sighed and rubbed the back of her head in a miffed manner.

 

“Sorry,” the apology finally came.

 

She shrugged, casting him a vaguely suspicious side-glance.

 

“S’fine.”

 

Silence enveloped them in the falling snow, the blanket now shared equally between the two.

 

The temperature continued to get colder, it seemed, causing the two to huddle closer and closer to one another for body heat. Or, rather, Rey was the one huddled into his radiator warmth, the heat exuding from him _insane_.

 

Thirty minutes later and another inch of snow bedecked the ground.

 

Rey had slid back into the driver’s seat, starting the car once more. Or, rather, _trying_ to start it. There was a sputtering sound, with nothing more to show for it.

 

“It’s dead, Jim.”

 

Kylo shot her a weird look, obviously not understanding the reference.

 

“We can either push it back, or have Han come get us,” Rey optioned, glancing over at Kylo in the passenger seat.

 

His face immediately contorted in emotion, more grimace than sneer.

 

“Ben Solo, you need to get over this aversion to your father right now. Either way, we’ll be seeing him and accepting help from him.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Kylo growled, but it was more at the situation than at her, she knew.

 

Minutes passed, Rey shivering slightly without the blanket (and Kylo’s body heat).

 

She was just about to make the damn decision for him, when-

 

“We’ll push it back.”

 

* * *

 

An hour and a half later, Rey and Kylo stood soaking wet and snow-covered on the Solo’s front stoop.

 

Ironically, Kylo really had had to get out and push like he’d sarcastically suggested earlier. They both had, taking turns while the other steered.

 

It had taken much longer to push the damn car than the ten minutes it had taken to drive the same route. The snow on the unplowed streets pushing back against the car made for a very hard trek.

 

But they were finally back at the house, and Rey hoped against all hope that Han was still home.

 

The doorbell chimed prettily - like something out of a Hallmark movie, Rey thought vaguely.

 

“Leia, I _told you_ not to drive home on these damned roads- oh.”

 

Han paused as he opened the door and saw the two of them.

 

Though he tried to hide it, Rey saw the pain in his gaze, the anger, as he glanced over his son.

 

When his gaze settled on her, his eyes widened slightly in recognition. What a coincidence that Rey would be the person Kylo’d said was waiting in the car for him.

 

“Rey?”

 

She smiled.

 

“Hiya, Han. Long time no see.”

 

“Come ‘ere, kid.”

 

Han pulled her into a tight hug that smelled of motor oil and pine.

 

Kylo looked on expressionlessly, though his fists were clenched tight, deep in his coat pockets.

 

“Keeping out of trouble?”

 

Rey smiled.

 

“Hardly. Look who I’m with.”

 

Rey’s gaze landed on Kylo in humour, but at his sour expression she changed the subject.

 

“Your piece of junk won’t start. Fuel line’s too cold.”

 

Friendly consternation settled into Han’s face.

 

“That ‘piece of junk’ has gotten me through a lot, kid. Watch it.”

 

Rey bit back her smile.

 

“All the same, it’s going nowhere. We had to push it back.”

 

Han raised a brow.

 

“I’ll go try to put some thawing additive-“

 

“In the fuel tank,” Rey finished for him. “Already tried it.”

 

“Did you wait-”

 

“Thirty minutes and it still didn’t work.”

 

Han eyed her another minute, looking pleasantly surprised for a second before stepping aside.

 

“Well, get in here then. Let me see what I can do, if anything.”

 

The two followed his prompt, stamping and brushing off the snow that bedecked them while Han headed out to check on the Falcon, grabbing the keys from Kylo a bit grumpily.  Mere minutes later, he returned looking chagrined.

 

“You’re right, kid,” he told Rey, shaking his head.

 

Kylo jumped at the chance he saw.

 

“We’ll just take my car back and deliver the invites to Mom another day then,” Kylo decided, turning on his heel.

 

Han blocked Kylo from leaving.

 

“You can’t drive in this weather. There’s a good seven inches out there now, and you know they don’t clear the roads near us until everything else’s been taken care of. I even told your mother not to come home. She’s staying at the office.”

 

Rey felt a flutter of apprehension hit her stomach. They couldn’t get back to work? Go home?

 

Kylo gritted his teeth.

 

“How are we supposed to get back to work?” he demanded, practically reading Rey’s thoughts.

 

Han shook his head.

 

“You’re not - no one’s going out in this weather.”

 

Rey felt her heart fall, before apprehension once more jumped up her throat. Stay here until they plowed the roads? With Kylo and his hated, estranged father?

 

The very idea caused worry to line her forehead as she glanced at the son in question.

 

Kylo’s jaw muscle continued to jump at Han’s words, but he chose not to argue further. For Rey’s sake.

 

Instead, he proceeded to angrily remove his coat, gloves, and boots as Han left to stoke the fire in the living room.

 

Stripping off her own coat, gloves, and snow boots in resignation, Rey remained in only her wet leggings, soaked socks, and a similarly damp sweatshirt.

 

“This is going to be horrible,” Rey muttered, as she accidentally stepped in a puddle of melted snow and winced.

 

Kylo threw her a sympathetic glance, before motioning her to wait. Jogging up the stairs and away from her, he came back with a towel and a bundle of clothes.

 

“I thought you might like to take a shower. To get warm.”

 

Rey blinked at his offer, surprised.

 

“I don’t have anything that could remotely fit you, and you’re too tall to fit Mom’s clothes, but I found a really old sweatshirt and some sleep pants from when I was a teenager.”

 

He offered the bundle in his arms to her and Rey smiled hesitantly in thanks.

 

“Here. Let me show you the shower.”

 

Trailing after him, they walked up the stairs, Rey glancing over the childhood pictures that lined the warm beige walls. Kylo progressively got older as they walked upwards, scowling harder and harder as they climbed as well. It was laughable really, seeing him as a grinning four-year-old toddler with huge ears vs his pubescent glare at the camera and long shaggy hair around age 14.

 

As if sensing her looking at them, Kylo upped his pace, turning the corner of the landing. He stopped at a door, and, opening it, showed her the bathroom.

 

“Uh, I’ll start it for you,” he muttered, walking over to the tub. “Do you want to take a shower? A bath?”

 

“A shower’s fine,” Rey said quickly, holding the bundle closer to her. Kylo nodded just as quickly, before turning on the water.

 

He waited for it to heat with one hand in the stream, both of them not looking at the other. Finally, he pulled away from the stream and pushed the plug in. The shower started with a gentle hiss of water.

 

“There. Uh, call if you need anything. I’ll be showering in the other bathroom.”

 

Rey nodded, busy placing the bundle down on the counter and resolutely avoiding eye contact.

 

The door closed gently on his way out.

 

Locking the door, just in case, Rey stripped out of her wet clothing, stretching it over the towel rack to dry.

 

As she stepped under the stream of hot water, her shoulders immediately loosened, the knots in her aching back soothed more and more as she stood there.

 

Finally, after about ten minutes of just standing under the spray, she began to wash herself.

 

Rey used what they had in the shower, opening a shampoo that smelled dark and aromatic and a conditioner that smelled the same. Opening, too, a body wash that smelled like - she scanned the bottle - “Arctic Ice”.

 

How _manly,_  she thought with a silent laugh.

 

Suddenly, all humour dropped as she realized why her mind was nagging at her.

 

 _It smells like Kylo_ , she thought to herself automatically, before clamping down on the thought.

 

Eyes scanning the four bottles in the shower, she picked up each one, realized they all smelled like him. Or, rather, he smelled like them.

 

But he’d said that he hadn’t visited his family home in over five years….

 

The thought made her heart clench.

 

_Leia kept this bathroom stocked with Kylo’s items, in the hope that he’d someday return to use them._

 

Rey leaned her head against the shower wall, closing her eyes.

 

She told herself they stung because she got soap in them, and not for any other reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget-Me-Not meaning: “Holding on to memories; Nostalgia; Melancholy regret.”
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Did anyone get the reference to a certain scene in The Empire Strikes Back? To Star Trek??? :P There are lots of little canon details interspersed in here - who can find them all???


	6. Scarlet Zinnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angry Brit and the Stubborn Asshole engage in discourse, hair-braiding, and a scene that I might have stolen from Rian Johnson and TLJ and repurposed *shrugs* 
> 
> Reference to Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening", which is also a nod to my username on here.
> 
> Also [ this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POqEVwROEQs) is the song that was playing in my head during the fireplace scene

Isn't this moodboard SO BEAUTIFUL? @raindropwaltz on Tumblr made it for this chapter and I'm in love! <3 thanks Erica! (Check out her fics guys!)

* * *

 

Hurriedly putting back the bottles, Rey finishes showering and towels off quickly, slipping on the clothes Kylo had offered her.

 

Despite the fact that they were ‘very old’, as he put it, the garments still didn’t fit. She had to roll the pants at the waist five times to get them to stay up and not trip her, and the sweatshirt was more of a dress. Nevertheless, they were warm and comfy, and Rey much preferred them to her own wet clothes.

 

Combing her tangled, gnarled hair as best she could with her pruney fingers, she emerged from the bathroom feeling much better than before, but still anxious about staying the night with the bickering Solo men.

 

She scanned the hallway for signs of life but only heard the distinct sound of water from farther down the hall. Instead of waiting for Kylo to finish, she traipsed down the stairs to the living room. Han was throwing another log on the fire, and the air crackled with warmth.

 

Suddenly, Rey was knocked on her ass by a giant wall of fur.

 

“ _What the_ -”

 

The dog was huge and brown, and so so happy. It licked at her face with unabashed joy, tail wriggling in excitement.

 

“That’s Chewie.” Han informed her, shaking his head at the older dog’s antics.

 

Rey laughed too as the dog attempted to curl up on top of her form, as if he were some small Pomeranian or Chihuahua.

 

“Hi there, boy,” she murmured, burying her hands in the dog’s fur and hugging him to her.  One of her foster families had had a dog. She hadn’t realized how much she _missed_ having a dog around.

 

Chewie suddenly got up and meandered to the rug in front of the fire, collapsing with a half-growl half-groan, wanting to heat his old bones.

 

Rey, chuckling, rose again, brushing her damp hair over her shoulder.

 

“Hey kid,” Han motioned, “hand me that poker.” Rey did as told, watching as he stoked the flames, Chewie contentedly curled up around Han’s feet.

 

The sound of the upstairs shower was barely there, but it encouraged Rey to ask what she’d been wondering.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

 

Han went still for a second, his back to her. She was unable to see his face, but she imagined a stilted regret.

 

“Too long,” Han muttered, gruffly, resuming his work.

 

Rey dug her bare foot into the carpet, hesitant to overstep.

 

“He misses you, you know. It shows.”

 

Han stilled for a millisecond more, before resuming roughly stabbing at the fire.

 

“That’s not my fault. He’s the one who left.”

 

Rey rolled her eyes. He sounded _exactly_ like his son.

 

“Both of you need to get over this. It’s petty and tearing your family apart.”

 

Han shook his head, standing.

 

“You think I️ don’t know that? He’s just so goddamn stubborn - just like his mother.”

 

“Or his father,” Rey intoned, a smile pulling at the sides of her lips.

 

Han shot her a gruffly amused look, but it faded quickly, replaced by a look that spoke of regret and mistakes long past.

 

“I️ don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

 

Rey touched his drooping shoulder with her hand in a show of compassion.

 

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

 

The fire crackled in the stillness, and Han blew out a breath, before straightening. Rey dropped her hand.

 

“Thanks for the advice, kid. But right now he’s just too unreasonable.”

 

“I️ might say the same of you, old man.”

 

Rey jumped, not having heard Kylo approach, not realizing the water upstairs had shut off.

 

Han turned to look at his son with none of the same softness Rey had just seen. Kylo’s face, too, was hard, his hair wet and dark around his pale face.

 

Tense silence, then-

 

“I’m making dinner. You two want some?”

 

Rey opened her mouth to agree-

 

“Since when can you cook?”

 

Kylo’s face is doubtful, critical even as he snaps out the words.

 

Han glanced away, barely having the nerve to look at him.

 

“I️ can’t. I was gonna heat up some leftovers.”

 

The fire crackled dully in the air.

 

“Sure,” Rey finally answers for them both. “We’d love some.”

 

Han nods abruptly, before turning to go into the kitchen, leaving a wary Rey with his son.

 

“Advice?” Kylo asked of what Han had said earlier, pushing off the side of the door and prowling towards her.

 

Rey shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“I️ told him the way to your heart was through flowers, like any typical male.”

 

A low laugh.

 

“Am I️ a ‘typical male’, then?”

 

Rey was unsure how to reply, so she didn’t, instead turning towards the fire to warm herself.

 

She blinked as a comb and pair of knit socks were presented to her.

 

Shooting Kylo an appreciative glance, she perched on the couch to pull on the socks. (She still had to roll them to make them fit). Then she proceeded to jerk the comb through her tangled hair, Kylo looking on amusedly.

 

“Are you planning on making yourself prematurely bald?” he asked, watching her attack her hair with vigor.

 

Rey paused, and looked at him confusedly. He indicated the comb in her hand with a slight push of his head.

 

“Oh. It’s tangled.”

 

Kylo raised a single brow.

 

“Did you use conditioner?”

 

Rey looked put out. “ _Yes_ ,” she stressed, though it was really none of his business.

 

“Correctly?”

 

Rey bared her teeth at him in a show of displeasure.

 

“ _I️ know how to use conditioner_.”

 

Kylo shook his head in response.

 

“If you did, it wouldn’t be a tangled mess right now.”

 

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “How do you even know?”

 

Kylo ran a hand through his drying hair.

 

“How do you think I keep these locks so luscious?”

 

Rey scoffed in annoyed amusement.

 

“ _Of course_ you use conditioner,” she muttered, before muttering something else in such a low tone that Kylo couldn’t entirely make it out, except for the words “pretty boy”.

 

“Here, give that to me,” he demanded, pulling the comb out of her tight grip.

 

Perching behind her on the couch, he began to slowly and meticulously comb her hair.

 

Rey, in a state of almost shock, could do nothing but stare at the opposite wall with an open mouth. Soon, though, she relaxes into the repetitive stroke of the comb and the gentle heat of the fire, falling into a state of meditation, almost.

 

The smell of his choice shampoo and conditioner fills the air between him, and he stiffens in surprise, before taking some odd sense of satisfaction at her smelling like him.

 

“I️ used to do this for my mother,” he mutters after a while, gently tilting her head so he can reach the other side of her hair.

 

Rey hums in response, eyes closed and heartbeat steady. She could’ve fallen asleep, if it weren’t for that familiar crackle of electricity between the two of them that charges the air. Finally, he strokes the comb through the last portion of her hair, finished.

 

Rey breaks her peacefulness to reach up and pull her hair through a hair tie.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks, grabbing her wrist to stop her.

 

“Putting my hair back up,” Rey replies, annoyance coloring her tone as she tries to shake off his large hand.

 

“Let me.”

 

“No, I️ can-”

 

He tugs on her hair, not so hard that it hurts, but enough that her hands loosen. 

 

“You’re so demanding.”

 

She crosses her arms in front of her as his now gentle fingers weave their way through her hair. He only hums in response, and she knows there must be a smug grin painting his lips.

 

Minutes later, Rey feels a final tug on her hair before it is done.

 

“There.”

 

She doesn’t thank him.

 

He hands her the remaining hair tie, and just before he pulls away, Rey grabs his right wrist.

 

“What is this?”

 

She’s referring to the flower that bedecks his inner arm, beautiful and simple.

 

“It’s a sunflower.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes at his response.

 

“I️ know what kind of flower it is, idiot. I️ work in a flower shop. I️ mean why do you have it?”

 

Rey knows  _why_ , knows that it’s Leia’s favorite flower from when the woman takes home some each time she visits. From when Han shows up on holidays and special occasions to request them.

 

There’s a short pause, and then he answers.

 

“I️ just liked how it looked-“

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Kylo’s quiet for a second, in shock maybe, then-

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Rey shakes her head.

 

“I️ call bullshit.”

 

She turns, sitting cross-legged across from him, hazel eyes ever-curious.

 

“Tell me,” she implores, cocking her head in a too-cute manner.

 

Kylo rolled his eyes at her temerity and studied her a moment more before realizing that she wasn’t going to relent. He sighed in defeat.

 

“It’s the flower my mother likes the most,” he finally mutters, not meeting her eyes.

 

“Oh. That’s so nice,” Rey croons, a small smile on her chapped lips as though she didn’t know.

 

“It’s whatever.”

 

Rey tries to contain the grin that threatens to bloom on her lips at his blasé reply. The smile suddenly falls as she realizes the meaning of the sunflower.

 

“Do you know what the sunflower symbolizes?” she asks Kylo softly, before she fully realizes what she’s sharing.

 

Kylo shakes his head, awaiting her answer. Swallowing, Rey tells him.

 

“It represents the dedication to weather all storms together and emerge victorious on the other side, usually as a family.”

 

She watches as his face dawns with realization. It is almost sad.

 

“It’s probably Leia’s favorite flower because she thinks - _hopes -_ that your family will be the same. Will weather this...storm between you and Han, and come out together on the other side.”

 

He’s quiet, eyes far away, flickering in the light of the fire. Rey doesn’t pry, instead gazing down at the flower again.

 

“Who did this?”

 

The words are soft, a light to call him back from whatever melancholy place he’d gone to. She traces the outline of the tattoo with her pointer finger, causing the tendons in his lower arms to flex.

 

“I️ did.”

 

Rey’s head snaps up to meet his eyes, shocked.

 

“Your line work is...it’s really good,” she praises, with a hesitant smile.

 

“It would’ve been better if I hadn’t had to do it with my left hand.”

 

Rey blanks at his statement, not believing that he did this with his non-dominant hand. She can feel his curiosity tinge the air, fill the space between them.

 

“What type of art do _you_ do?”

 

“How do you...”

 

She trails off at his amused smile, cocking her head. A pause, and then-

 

“I️ just sketch. Nothing major.”

 

Kylo nods, before getting up, walking over to her bag near the door.

 

“May I️?” he asks, before rooting through her bag.

 

“Hey! What are you-“

 

His hand emerged from her bag with his prize.

 

Her sketchbook.

 

“Hey!”

 

“I figured you would keep it on you if inspiration struck.”

 

Further ignoring her weak cries of protest, (he wouldn’t have opened it had he sensed she was truly against the idea) he opens it to glance inside. He perches down beside her on the couch again, just as she grabs for it half-heartedly. Kylo easily pulls it out of reach.

 

She’s not really angry he’s looking through it - there’s nothing important in there anyways. But she feels as though she should be.

 

He’s quiet, paging through the book, eyes flickering over charcoal and graphite lines, over the occasional ink scratches. He finally stops on her most recent sketch, the one she was working on when Finn had requested her help with the carnations at the shop.

 

It’s a bloom of baby’s breath, minimal yet elegant in its simplicity.  He casts her an intrigued look after reading the caption; she blushes.

 

“You want to get this tattooed?

 

Rey half-heartedly shrugs, pretending like it was no big deal. Like she hadn’t sketched, erased, then sketched and erased again her idea for her tattoo for the past two and a half years.

 

He glances back down to her chicken-scratch handwriting, where the words ‘tattoo idea’ stand out in stark ink.

 

“Where do you want it?”

 

The question is simple, yet it has Rey flushing red. Kylo raises a brow, a smirk flickering on his lips.

 

“Someplace indecent?”

 

Rey smacks him with her hand, hitting his bicep.

 

“No!” she protests.

 

“Mmhmm,” Kylo mutters, lips curling into a smug grin at her expense.

 

“Ugh, I️ hate you!” Rey snaps, crossing her arms at his chuckling.

 

He doesn’t relent.

 

“Do you want me to tattoo it? Want my hands and ink there - on you?”

 

Rey is about as red as a tomato now.

 

“Do you want me to ink my signature on your skin so that you can always remember me? Where do you want it? On your ass or-”

 

“I️ want it on my arm!” she shrieks at him, mortified beyond belief. “Just my forearm!”

 

Kylo pauses, before shaking his head, biting his lip in such a manner that Rey can’t look away from that red mouth of his.

 

“And here I️ thought you wanted it somewhere _special_.”

 

His dark eyes glint dangerously, head tilted slightly and lips smug.

 

Rey’s eyes unconsciously flicker back to his lips.

 

His adam’s apple bobs in response, and suddenly, Rey feels too hot in her layers of clothing. _His_ clothing. Smelling of him.

 

She parts her lips-

 

A clang comes from the kitchen, the bang of a pan maybe.

 

The moment breaks.

 

“The damn food’s ready - come get it. Or don’t, I don’t care.”

 

Exchanging a somewhat awkward yet amused look, the two rise to eat.

 

* * *

 

 Dinner is uneventful, thankfully. Han and Kylo both  _try_ \- not for each other, but for Rey.

 

And even though it’s leftovers, Leia’s cooking is easily the best Rey’s tasted in her entire life.

 

Han flicks on the TV after dinner, clicking through channels until the weather forecast is displayed.

 

“-and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better, Teedo. Our radar predicts two to three more inches of snow before the night is over, accompanied by some serious freeze warnings starting late tonight and carrying on to the early morning. We won’t get a break until around 9 AM.”

 

Rey, at the reminder of having to share a house with the two bickering males, frowns. But she nevertheless finds herself calling Finn to tell him that she’s “fine”, “staying the night at a friend’s” (no need to mention who) and that she might very well not be able to make it in tomorrow for work.

 

And then she finds herself sitting down with Han at the kitchen table, a deck of cards in his hands and a giant pile of pretzels on the table. Reluctantly, Kylo joins them, and the two teach Rey how to play poker.

 

She’s surprisingly good, but is no match for Kylo, and especially for Han. The man is a poet with the cards, his poker face something to be envied. Rey wonders vaguely if he’s ever won big at casinos.

 

Kylo holds his own against him, seeming to know his father better than most (despite their estrangement). It makes Rey’s heart ache slightly, that while Kylo pretends to not care about his father, he perhaps knows him better than anyone else.

 

Late that night, when Rey goes to the bathroom, she finally catches a glimpse of her hair in the mirror.

 

Kylo’s done an intricate sort of French braid, loops and plaits of hair woven together so beautifully it makes Rey sad that she’ll eventually have to take it down.

 

Now she knows where Leia’s hairstyles come from.

 

Not even a second later, a pang goes through her, and she wonders who does Leia’s hair now.

 

* * *

 

Sleeping is difficult for Rey in new spaces.

  
Years of sleeping on edge has her trained to be wary of unfamiliar surroundings, and despite knowing the Solos pretty well, tonight is no different.

  
She finally rolls out of bed after over two hours of tossing and turning, knowing full well that she’ll be unable to sleep until she tires herself out enough. The clock beside the bed reads **2:57 AM** in glowing cyan, and she sighs in annoyance at her mind’s inability to relax.

 

Opening the door silently, she sees firelight painting the hallway of the stairs and decides to follow it. Perhaps Han is up.

 

She instead finds a lounging Kylo Ren petting a snoring Chewie, situated on the rug just in front of the fireplace and sipping at an amber-colored liquor in a cut-crystal glass.

 

“Hey,” Rey breathes softly, coming down the last few stairs to face him. He looks surprised, coming out of a daydream almost.

 

“Hi,” he breathes back just as softly, Chewie stirring slightly.

 

She folds herself down next to him, cross-legged, burying her own cold hands into Chewie’s fur. The dog gives her a half-hearted lick before huffing, and, in minutes, his rumbling snores resume once more.

 

“Can’t sleep?” Kylo asks eventually,

 

Rey nods in reply. “You?”

 

“Yeah.”

  
They lapse into a comfortable silence once more, the crackling of the fireplace soft and lulling. Outside the window, the snow is bright white in the moonlight, and stray flakes still fall from the somber night sky.

 

“Too many memories,” Kylo says suddenly, almost making Rey jump.

 

“In this house?”

 

He nods, eyes flitting back down to Chewie, stroking his soft head with a large hand.

 

“I can’t sleep in new places or with new people around,” Rey offers, thinking it only fair.

 

The fire gives a loud crack - a log falls farther into the burning embers and is consumed by fire.

 

“Is that from...your fostering?”

 

Rey nods, not surprised he remembered that fact from earlier.

 

“Next question,” Kylo starts, obviously referencing their game from earlier. “Tell me about England.”

 

Rey scoffed softly, picking at a loose string on the edge of the sweatshirt she wore.

 

“It was _my_ turn to ask, you know, but...what do you want to know?”

 

He shrugs, eyes made molten and tawny in the firelight. “I don’t know - where you’re from, what you did when you were little, your favorite childhood memory.”

 

“That seems like more than one question-”

 

She smiles at the exasperated glance Kylo throws her.

 

“ _Fine_.”

 

She takes a minute to think, not at all accustomed to dwelling on her past. She’d let it die long ago.

 

“Even though I moved around from family to family, I considered myself from Brixton. It’s not the best area, not at all actually, but it’s where I spent a lot of my time…”

 

The fire crackles again, and Kylo offers her a sip from his drink, which she accepts. After a quick swig, burning like liquid fire down her throat, she lets the glass dangle from her fingers.

 

“I didn’t have all bad experiences growing up. Some were good. One family, the Johnsons,” she remembers, “they had a cute looking pug that used to follow me about.”

 

She takes another sip from the glass.

 

“It was nice, feeling wanted.”

 

A shiver wracks her, not quite cold but not quite regret. Kylo pulls a blanket around her shoulders all the same. She accepts it gratefully, keeping it closed with one hand, the other still holding the glass.

 

“You’re not alone.”

 

The words make her head snap up, makes her heart clench in her chest.

 

His eyes echo the same loneliness that she feels on the worst nights, the same aching emptiness that comes from lacking a family. Eyes dark and glistening and so _alone._

 

She isn’t sure why she says it, but she somehow knows it is the right thing to tell him.

 

“Neither are you.”

 

His eyes dance to hers, then down to her hand, as she extends the glass to him once more. He grasps the cool glass, warmed by her touch, their fingers barely brushing.

 

Both of them gasp in a subtle breath, eyes meeting, firelight flickering across their features.

 

The air is bated, warm; painted with sweeping strokes of ochre, amber, and sienna. It is peaceful and yet energized.

 

Rey lets the empty glass slip from her fingers to fall upright onto the carpet, fingers twining with Kylo’s, rested on her knee.

 

A single tear makes its way down her cheek, glistening crystalline in the light of the fire. Kylo’s eyes glimmer wetly too, lovely, dark and deep.

 

Rey has no trouble falling asleep after that, her head safely cradled in the junction between Kylo’s shoulder and neck.

 

Kylo stays up a while longer, watching the firelight dance across the soft features of a girl who came into his life like a storm, beautiful and strong and entirely unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet Zinnia Meaning: "Constancy; You are not alone; I am with you"


	7. Orange Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stupid Brit and the Idiotic Asshole have a fight :( 
> 
> Valentine's Day comes with a vengeance, steeped in wine and bad decisions
> 
> Coffee idea came from @raindropwaltz

“You’re such a fucking  _prick_.”

 

Rey says, shaking her head and grabbing the StarHux cup he offers her from his hand before he can pull it away.

 

“What?” he laughs out, playing innocent.

 

“You know what,” Rey grumbles back, taking a sip of the coffee.

 

It had only taken him two tries to figure out just the way she likes it. Now, he brings her a caffé macchiato with three pumps of caramel syrup every morning before he heads into work.

 

It doesn’t matter that the side of her cup reads “ _After the Reyn, comes the Reynbow_ ”, and that yesterday it read “ _Do you StingRey?_ ” and the day before that “ _You’re on my Reydar_ ”. She appreciates the gesture, all the same.

 

Kylo shakes his head while pushing up his sleeves to his biceps, baring his deliciously tatted arms as he leans towards her over the counter.

 

“You should be thanking me, not calling me a prick. I️ got you  _coffee_. That shit’s not cheap nowadays, what with inflation and all.”

 

Rey hides her smile behind the cup’s rim as she takes a sip. He raises a brow, still waiting. She huffs, before uttering an annoyed thank you.

 

“That’s more like it. There’s the Rey of Sunshine I️ know so well.”

 

His eyes light up, and Rey suddenly knows what will be scrawled on her coffee cup tomorrow morning.

 

They had been playing this game for three weeks now, drinking coffee and laughing and not  _entirely_ dreading the more-frequent-than-ever pickups Kylo had to make at Leia’s behest. If Rey was honest with herself...she might even say she liked Kylo. Considered him a friend.

 

A friend she stayed up texting with until 3 AM, shoulders shaking with silent laughter as she pressed her fingers to her lips as if to hide her smile.

 

She came around the glass counter to hip-check him, making sure to keep a tight grip on her coffee. (Last week there had been an unfortunate coffee accident all over Kylo’s shirt. It had been black though, like all his clothing, so it hadn’t stained.)

 

“Don’t you have ink to do?”

 

Kylo smirks down at her while she leans against the counter and sips her drink. She has to crane her neck to look up at him, nose wrinkling adorably.

 

“Wow, you sound like a real hip chick saying “ink” like that. Totally  _groovy_.”

 

Rey snorts into her coffee, before slapping at his arm.

 

“I️ never thought-” she pauses to try to contain her laughter. “I️ never thought the fearsome Kylo Ren would  _ever_ say groovy, but here you are, proving me wrong. I learn something new about you every day, it seems.”

 

He feigns hurt, puppy-dog eyes turned on in a millisecond.

 

“I️ can be fearsome  _and_ groovy, I’ll have you know. Stop reducing me to a one-dimensional villain - this isn’t some fictional space opera.”

 

Chuckling still, she pushes him towards the door. He pauses to slip on his coat, despite it being barely a fifteen-second walk between the two shops. She knows then that he’s toying with her.

 

“Go,” she growls with playful annoyance, shoving him again.

 

“So impatient,” he mutters, smiling. A wink is flashed at her. “Maybe if you slap my ass, I’ll go faster.”

 

Rey is tempted, oh she’s  _so_ tempted, but instead, she settles for shoving him towards the door again with her free hand.

 

“Goodbye,” she stresses, still smiling though.

 

“See you for the carnations at 1,” he reminds her, before he grants her another wink and is gone.

 

Or so she thinks.

 

The door reopens and she looks up with surprise (still smiling).

 

“Back so soon-”

 

She cuts herself off as Finn steps inside, shaking snow from his form. He looks angry, no doubt having run into Kylo on his way inside.

 

His serious gaze settles on her coffee cup, reading the words there before flicking up to where her smile has faded slightly. His eyes narrow further.

 

“Another visit from your _boyfriend_?” he snaps, taking off his coat roughly and hanging it up.

 

Rey, obviously surprised, backs up a step at his words.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Finn rolls his eyes, a look of pure disgust on his face (its a look she’s never truly seen on him before).

 

“Kylo Ren, your wedding buddy. Are you guys officially a couple yet or does he just _love_ to bring you coffee anyways?”

 

Rey’s face morphs from confusion to anger.

 

“What brought this on?” she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest rather defensively.

 

Finn doesn’t answer, instead brushing past her, heading to the back.

 

“Hey!”

 

Finn pauses at her tone, harsh and hurt, before he turns to face her, gaze piercing and hot with rage.

 

“What’s your freaking problem?!” Rey demands, both shocked at Finn’s abnormal behavior and more than a little bit angry.

 

“My  _problem_?” Finn asks scathingly, practically shaking. “You’re hanging around with him like he didn’t put three men in the goddamn hospital after they got a bad tone with him. That’s my freaking  _problem_ , Rey.”

 

His words don’t entirely compute at first, floating through her ears, in and out. But then it clicks.

 

“He  _what_?” she gets out, her voice both enraged and yet slightly breaking on the words. Finn remains stiff, yet forces a nod at her obvious shock.

 

“Yeah, Rey. You think I don’t have a good excuse for not liking him? I don’t just go around  _hating_ people.” Finn shakes his head, continuing. “He put three grown men in the  _hospital_ over some insult. Broke one guy's nose; ended up shattering another guys leg. And now you’re hanging out with him, getting chummy.”

 

Rey is the picture of shock and slowly-growing disgust.

 

“I can’t...he wouldn’t-”

 

Finn blows out an annoyed huff, before slamming towards the back room and furiously opening up his laptop from his bag. He turns it towards her finally, having pulled up a news article.

 

She scans it, bile in her throat, her mouth dry and tasting sour.

 

“And they  _dropped_ the charges because all of his ‘buddies’ from that damn First Order shop vouched for him.” Finn shook his head, grabbing her suddenly cold and clammy hands.

 

“Rey, I don’t want that monster anywhere  _near_ you, much less you not knowing what he’s done.”

 

She’s quiet, too quiet, and Finn’s shoulders relax slightly, his face falling too. His hands come up to gently grab her upper arms, in a show of support.

 

“I’m sorry, Peanut, I really am. I wish he were a better guy for you. But he’s not, and I don’t want you getting hurt from it.”

 

Rey nods, not meeting his gaze, looking pointedly at the ground to her left.

 

“I-I’m gonna take a walk,” Rey whispers, before turning out of his embrace and leaving the shop, barely grabbing her coat on the way out.

 

Finn sighs.

 

One o’clock comes sooner than expected, the flower shop bustling that day with eager customers. Valentine’s Day was in two weeks, and that meant booming business for  _Dear Daisy_.

 

Poe was very excited, Valentine’s Day being his favourite holiday besides his own birthday. He flitted from customer to customer like a kid hyped-up on sugar, yet was still somehow charming and beguiling to the last.

 

Rey tried to adopt that same sense of happiness that Poe seemed to exude like sunshine; hers was a halfway-decent act. The only sign that the morning hadn’t started so great for her was how bright her eyes were. (Thankfully, the puffiness and runny nose were long gone.)

 

She dreaded the moment he would walk through the door, dreaded the moment her heart would inevitably give a little leap at the sight of him. (She told herself it was for the caffeine he usually brought with him. Classical conditioning and all that.)

 

When Kylo did walk in, Rey had to work hard to school her expression into one of careful neutrality.  He was just another customer now. Should have  _always_ been just another customer.

 

He scanned the shop, eyes momentarily lingering on Poe helping an older woman choose gardenias, and then Finn who glared right back at him despite being with a customer himself.  When his eyes finally landed on her, a smile twitched at his lips, and Rey had to tell herself to hate it. He neared, once more leaning against the counter, just as he had that morning.

 

“Hi, Scavenger. I know I don’t come bearing caffeinated libations, but maybe look a bit happier to see me.”

 

Rey had to force herself to not grin, to not reply with a bitingly sarcastic response like usual. Instead, she simply hefted the carnations up on the counter, and leveled her gaze with him.

 

“If Leia’s not happy with anything, please tell her to call me anytime.”

 

Kylo’s brow crinkled, obviously confused at her demeanor.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Rey blinked, as though surprised.

 

“Of course. Why?”

 

He shakes his head, eyeing her oddly.

 

“You’re acting strange. Normal, almost.” His lips quirked at his own humour, waiting for her tinkling laugh to answer it.

 

Her lips remained pinched closed, except to say-

 

“Okay, well, have a nice day.”

 

She tries to push the carnations farther across the counter towards him, but he grabs her forearm. The movement reminded Rey of why Finn didn’t like him, of the violence that came tied to his name ( _that he’d put three grown men in the hospital_ ).

 

“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

 

His eyes flickered around the shop, landing on Poe, and then Finn.

 

“Is it because they’re here?” he asked, realization suddenly dawning in his eyes. “Oh, you’re pretending you don’t like me for them. Harsh, but still cute.”

 

His lips quirked upwards once more, but at the seriosity he found in her gaze, it dropped.

 

“I’m not pretending I don’t like you,” she stressed, glaring slightly at him. She shakes his hand off her. “We’re not  _actually_  friends, remember? We just work together for Leia’s sake.”

  
  
She turns back to the books she’s been organizing on the counter, not willing to meet his gaze. Not willing to look up to see what is playing out across his face. There’s a pause, and she thinks he’s going to leave-

 

He grabs her forearm again, this time much more insistent (but never hurting her). She almost wishes he would so she could cement that image of him into her psyche, violent and bloody - sear it into her memory

 

“Rey, what the  _fuck_  is going on?” his voice is a whisper, yet it is still harsh and rather loud, so much so that the nearest customers look at them curiously.

 

“Nothing,” she hisses, pulling out of his grip once more, glaring at him.

 

“This isn’t nothing. You’re acting as if I-”

 

His eyes suddenly flicker back to Finn.

 

“Did  _he_ do this? Did he say something? Did he tell you why he  _hates_ me?”

  
The word ‘hate’ is sneered in such a manner that Rey is taken aback.

 

She is suddenly reminded of the first day they’d met. How could she forget the man whom she had first met, snarling and angry and more akin to a wild animal than a man?  How could she forget _that_ man - Kylo Ren - for the one that she so secretly called Ben Solo?

 

It is not Ben Solo that stands in front of her right now, but Kylo Ren, looking as though he is about to go confront Finn, possibly put  _him_ in the hospital.

 

“Kylo,” Rey hisses, grabbing _his_ arm this time. His hands are clenched into fists.

 

“Kylo,” she urges again, until that dark, snapping gaze is clashing with her own.

 

She levels the most pleading face she can muster, trying to drill the words into his head.

 

“If you ever respected me, were my friend, cared even the slightest, you will leave this flower shop right now and leave us all alone.”

 

His gaze is still clouded with anger, thick and choking, but the words do something, give him some sort of clarity. (She doesn’t know that it is  _pain_ that gives him the best sort of clarity.)

 

“Please,” she musters, lip quivering slightly despite herself.

 

He eyes her another moment, and it feels like both eternity and a nanosecond; eternal yet fleeting.

 

She breathes.

 

He breathes.

 

Finally,  _finally_ , he shakes her hand off of him. He scoops up the carnations.

 

“Get your own damn coffee from now on, Rey.”

 

And then he’s gone.

 

Rey doesn’t have the same luxury as earlier, isn’t able to leave and take a walk with so many customers to attend to.

 

So she swallows the lump in her throat - chokes on it - and plasters a smile on her face. When she licks her lips later, they will taste like saltwater.

 

* * *

 

 The next two weeks reminded Rey of her life before she’d found flowers - dismal, grey.

 

She hadn’t realised the place she’d carved in her life for him, how much his presence had become a constant - like Finn and Poe.

 

She’d always at least seen him in the mornings when she’d opened, when he brought her coffee. Sometimes two or three more times, depending on Leia’s pickups and whether or not he had a client during her lunch break.

 

The same day as their confrontation, she’d later seen a redheaded man yelling into his phone outside the tattoo shop.

 

“You cost me another  _fucking_ wall, Ren,” the man snarls into the sleek black device, his face almost as red as his locks. “You better have your ass in here by 8 AM to open from now on,  _and_ pick up extra sessions to pay for it.”

 

The fact that Kylo had seemingly destroyed a wall (punched through it?) again reminds Rey of the sheer violence that the man she had once mistakenly called a friend was capable of. She should count herself lucky that she had not ever been at the forefront of his anger.

 

Yet somehow, even knowing that, whenever she catches a glimpse of him, she feels that same lump in her throat. It is something she has a hard time swallowing again and again.

 

She thinks it tastes an awful lot like regret.

 

It’s worst when he has to come in to get deliveries.

 

They are both quiet, distant like strangers. Even when they had first known each other, there had been a burning heat, an anger that made all of their conversations red-hot.

 

This is something else.

 

His eyes are dark, still angry, but it's a frostbitten anger, biting and frozen. Something hewed from ice and wrapped in cold.

 

It matches the still-frigid temperatures outside, snowy and icicle-ridden.

 

* * *

 

Valentine’s Day comes with a vengeance at  _Dear Daisy_.

 

The whole day, Rey is sprinting about: delivering orders in the van, arranging bouquets in the back, checking out customers. She hardly gets a moment to breathe, even skipping lunch to help Poe out with a giant arrangement of roses.

  
Poe is all pep and happiness, but Rey is grumpy -  _moody_. Especially as she’s the one who has to load the giant order of roses into the back of the delivery truck. (Who the  _hell_ orders that many damn roses for one person anyway? _)_

 

“I’m  _not_  reorganizing that fucking stockroom tonight, Hux. I work til 8 - if I do that too I’ll be here  _all_   _night_.”

 

“That’s not  _my_ problem, Ren.  _You’re_ the one that decided it would be a good idea to put your fist through a wall.”

 

It is as she’s loading the VioBoxes, her ass up in the air as she crawls into the loading space of the van, that she recognizes the familiar deep tones of Kylo and the corresponding nasally voice of the redheaded man. It is the easy back and forth banter of friends, yet still, somehow there is an edge to their words.

 

“I  _told_ you-”

 

“Would you rather I have you do all of the  _walk-ins_ for a week?”

 

There is a muttered curse, and then the smug sniff of the man, Hux, in triumph.

 

“You’re such a fucking  _dick-_ ”

 

Kylo’s voice cracks on the next word. Rey can suddenly  _feel_ his gaze on her ass, her ears immediately turning red - her cheeks flushing too. She quickly finishes arranging the boxes, scooting out of the van.

 

One deep breath later, she finds Kylo looking at her with an expression somewhere between shock and a glare. It’s honestly quite comical, and she almost forgets they are supposed to be in some sort of standoff.

 

“Did you have a stroke?”

 

Kylo shakes his head at her patronizing question, as if trying to reset himself.

“No,” he growls, and finally,  _finally_ , there is that familiar heat to his gaze. He is melting, not so frozen anymore.

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Hux mutters gleefully, earning himself a ferocious-looking glare from Kylo.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Rey mutters to them both, fighting the twitch of a smile on her face, as she heads back inside.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

 

* * *

 

 It is precisely after Rey has had two large glasses of wine that night, mourning her lack of a love life on the most romantic night of the year, that she begins to think of Kylo Ren.

 

The half-empty bottle of ‘ _Rosiala de Chandrila_ ’ sits, sweating cool drops of condensation onto the wood of her living room table. She reminds herself to thank Poe again for it. Maker knows she wouldn’t be able to afford…..she pauses to look at the label, trying to pronounce it for what felt like the hundredth time but giving up somewhere around “Rose de Chinchilla”.

 

The idea of a chinchilla, with its beautiful fur, somehow reminds her of Kylo. She curses.

 

“Stupid fucking twit,” she mutters, picturing his stupid hair and his stupid tattoos  - those  _stupid_ muscles.

 

Another wine glass down, quicker than expected.

 

She groans loudly as she pictures those tatted arms scooping her up, pressing her against a wall, his tongue laving at her neck, across her collar bones…

 

She rather aggressively crunches down on a handful of tortilla chips, chipmunk cheeks chewing angrily.

 

Who was he to cause this reaction in her body, make her all hot and bothered when he was a  _bad_ guy? Who said he could just come angrily barging into her life and make her feel things she’d never let herself feel before?

 

Who did Kylo Ren think he  _was_ , exactly, playing with her heart?

 

And it is precisely after Rey has four (five? six?) too many glasses of wine that she thinks it would be a great idea to confront him about Finn’s accusation and her own fucked up feelings for him.

 

Somehow, against all odds, she finds herself in front of First Order Tattoos, having taken the late bus. There is the faintest light radiating from the black-tinted windows, so she bangs on the front door with her fist. Now that she is here, she should be cursing her idiocy, but the liquid courage coursing through her veins is still working its magic, convincing her that this is what  _needs_ to happen.

 

It takes her three tries before Kylo finally comes to the door.

 

With a click, the glass door unlocks and is opened.

 

“ _Rey?_ ”

 

She pushes past him into the shop, the cold, snowy wind nipping at her heels. He closes the door behind her, locks it again.

 

It is dim here, barely lit by the buzzing, red neon light of the logo on the wall. Much farther on down the hall, what she assumes is the storage room is lit up.

 

“Rey, what is this about? Are you okay?”

 

“No,” she mutters, turning to glare at him in the hazy light.

 

She is barely able to see that his face is a humorous mix of alarm and confusion as he eyes her form, puffy in her winter jacket.

 

“I came here to say that,” she starts, a slight slur to her words. “To say that you’re not  _fair_.”

 

He approaches her, hands raised in an almost comical reassurance of her safety.

 

“Rey...are you drunk?”

 

Rey hums her answer, struggling to unzip her jacket. She finally gets it off, shucking it onto the ground.

 

“Did you drive here?” he asks, before remembering her lack of transportation. “You came here on the bus like this? At this hour?”

 

Rey rolls her eyes, though it’s not quite visible.

 

“You’re not allowed to worry about me, Kylo. You’re not my  _boyfriend_.”

 

She expects him to be annoyed, to be irritated. Instead, his voice is soft, solemn.

 

“No, Rey - I’m not.”

 

Rey shakes her head, confused at his response, confused at the shockwave of emotions coursing through her right now.

 

He steps closer, making her crane her neck to look up at him. In the lack of light, his eyes look black, glistening with promise. She licks her lips; his gaze flickers.

 

“Do you want to be?”

 

The words are exhaled on a breath; a wish, a question, and an answer. She feels  _drunk_ for the first time that night, but not on alcohol.

 

With a low groan, he rakes a hand through his hair, pulling at the messy strands.

 

“Rey, we can’t-”

 

“ _No one_ tells me what I can or can’t do,” is her slurred response, and then she’s roughly pulling him down by the collar of his t-shirt to slot her lips over his.

 

Though he may have been shocked by her brashness, his lips are eager, quick to devour her own. He tastes like regret and bad decisions. She  _revels_  in it.

 

His hands work their way underneath her shirt, hot against her already flushed skin, caressing, pulling her closer to him. Just one of his palms spans almost the entirety of her lower back.

 

She’s pressed against him now - closer,  _closer_. A nip of his teeth against her bottom lip, making her gasp, letting his tongue slide inside.

 

Somehow, in the confusion, his shirt and her’s comes off. Skin against skin.

 

She hates that it’s so dark ( _that she’s so drunk_ ). She can’t see his tattoos, only the barest of outlines, splotches on his arms.

 

His hand reaches to free her left breast from the lace bralette she’d put on specifically for  _him_ , hoisting her up in his arms like she weighs next to nothing. Her legs twine about his hips, supporting herself along with his huge hands, which cup her ass.

 

His raven head lowers, mouthing at her, tonguing over her rosy nipple. One of her hands twines in his hair, holding him to the delicate skin, her head thrown back.

 

“Fuck, Kylo - _yessssss_.”

 

She feels his smirk against her chest, smug. He pulls away from her breast with a lewd  _pop,_ turning his attention to the other _._ Rey grinds her hips into Kylo, causing a low snarl to leave his lips, still latched around her nipple. She does it again, desperate for friction, for  _heat_.

 

Suddenly, they’re moving, Rey’s head spinning at the movement.

 

Her back crashes against something cool and hard - a wall - with the buzzing, heated logo digging into her back. The clash of hot and cold makes goosebumps rise on her skin, makes her head reel. Everything is upside down and right side up, burning and freezing, consumed by an iridescent haze.

 

Kylo is mouthing at her collarbone, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her neck to between her breasts. His head ducks lower, lifting her higher so that he can lick down the expanse of her stomach.

  
Everything is too much - it's  _dizzying_. She grabs at the wall with one hand, looking for stability, searching for something to cling to.

 

He pulls back, panting, and she mewls, gripping at his shoulder, bucking her hips, trying to get him to continue.

 

“Rey,” he gently says. “I'm sorry I got caught up in this but...we _can't._ You’re _drunk_.”

 

She protests, shaking her head, even though it spins like a carousel, makes her see stars and blurs.

 

He chuckles at the adamant denials of her inebriety, slipping her bralette back into place, smoothing his thumb beneath the curve of her breast before pressing one last kiss there over her nipple, peaked in lace.

 

“I’m not going to have my first time with you be something you won’t recall the next morning or can give _proper_ consent to,” he tells her, letting her slide down, but keeping a grip on her so she won’t fall.

 

He leans close, lips brushing her ear. “I also want you to feel and _remember_ every place I lick, touch, and  _bite_.”

 

A particularly filthy curse falls from Rey’s mouth, both at crazy spinning of her head, and at how his words make her want to ride him like a fucking horse, drunk or not.

 

She protests as he leads her into a backroom, attempting to recapture his lips all the way. He remains aloof to her ministrations, though the quirk of his lips tells her how amused he is at her antics. He helps her onto a leather couch, comfortable and cushy, before removing her converse and helping her back into her t-shirt.

 

“ACDC, huh?” he asks her, as she struggles to get her head through the hole.

 

“I thought you’d like it,” comes her muffled reply, before her head pokes through the top. It’s on backwards. He shakes his head, restraining his laughter with quite a lot of effort.

 

“Get some sleep, Rey,” he finally instructs, pulling a blanket over her form.

 

“I was _trying_ to  _sleep_ with  _you,_ ” she mutters, wrinkling her nose at him annoyedly as he chuckles, before yawning cutely and rolling over.

 

In minutes, there is a steady stream of snores coming from her, leaving Kylo to wonder and worry about what the next day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orange Lily Flower Meaning: ‘Hatred; Prideful Love; Disdain’
> 
>  
> 
> The rating officially changed to Explicit for this chapter ;) You're welcome, you heathens. ‘Or Nah’ by Somo was played on repeat for the later section.
> 
> Referenced the Matt the Radar Technician skit in this also haha (After the rain, comes the rainbow) :P


	8. Forsythia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a truce on the horizon???? Will the Stubborn Brit and the Idiotic Asshole ever get together? The answer may surprise you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this chapter early so have an early update! Next semester starts on Monday so updates will be sporadic and maybe later than normal. Sorry :(((

Rey awakens to sunshine on her face and the taste of regret in her mouth.

 

Despite the pounding of her head, she remembers last night a bit _too_ vividly. Her lips tingle; her skin burns with the red-hot traces of Kylo’s touch, like handprints.

 

She pushes the heady flood of memories away, guilt and anger engulfing her instead. Even after what Finn had told her, she just couldn’t stay away from him.

 

She scoffs, loudly. Maybe _she_ was the one with poor self-control...

 

Sitting up, she glances around the room, glaring at the window that had woken her. Carefully, she stands, closing her eyes for a minute at the head rush that threatens. Finally, she manages to make it to the window, tugging down the blinds forcibly.

 

“Ah, you’re up.”

 

Rey freezes at the voice, back still turned, before forcing her face into an expression of careful neutrality. She turns to face the beast.

 

Blinking, she takes in the sight of Kylo Ren. She feels like he should look different after last night, somehow. He wears an easy smile, but his eyes are hesitant, careful.

 

“Remember much from last night, scavenger?” he asks casually - a little _too_ casually, as he hands her a bottle of water and pain pills.

 

Rey realizes with a sudden clarity that he thinks she might have been too drunk to remember their encounter. Some sick, twisted part of her rears its head, despite the fact that last night’s incident had been _her_ fault.

 

“Not really. It’s a blur.” She downs three IB, takes a long drought of water from the bottle.

 

Her heart clenches as she watches his hopes fall, his eyes shuttering, closing off.

 

She immediately regrets her words, a pang going through her. Then she curses herself all over again for being so _weak_ , for so easily ignoring the truth of the violent man that he is.

 

“You came in here drunk, and I didn’t want to let you go back home at that hour on the bus, especially not in your state. So I had you crash here.”

 

Rey nods, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. Ignores the fact that he leaves out their... _encounter_. Did he regret it?

 

“It’s 6 AM….I didn’t know if you wanted me to drop you back home or sleep a while longer.”

  
At the thought of having to sit in the close quarters of his car with Kylo, (because she knows he’ll insist on him driving her) Rey frowns. From the incessant pounding of her head, and the fact that she still feels a bit drunk, Rey decides she would rather face reality with a few more hours of sleep in her system.

 

“I’m going back to sleep,” Rey mutters, before crawling back onto the couch.

 

“Okay,” Kylo replies, voice soft. The door shuts behind him.

 

She falls asleep once more to the image of Kylo’s eyes, pained and pitiful.

 

* * *

 

 

When Rey next wakes, it is to the smell of coffee and ramen noodles.

 

“And so Sleeping Beauty is finally awake. Kylo didn’t even have to kiss her!”

 

Rey’s eyes snap open, and she bolts upright as she finds two almost-strangers and one definite-stranger in the space of the breakroom.

 

“Relax, doll. We’re not going to hurt you,” comes the familiar blonde’s voice, red-painted lips smirking slightly from where she was perched at Rey’s feet on the arm of the couch. She squirts sriracha sauce into her ramen noodles, before slurping up the spicy mixture.

  
Somehow, the woman looks straight off a runway in her skin-tight leather pants, slouchy band tee, and lace-up heels. Ink lines her muscled arms, and a small text tattoo is visible on her inner left arm - ‘ _Your past does not define you_ ’.

 

“But we did tattoo a dick on your forehead.”

 

It’s the redhead - Hux - who’s made the joke, looking infinitely amused as he leans against the doorway, nursing a cup of coffee. Only the tattoos on his hands are visible, ‘s e l f  m a d e’ stamped out on his knuckles across both hands, the rest of them covered by a maroon henley and dark jeans.

 

The words are out of Rey’s mouth before she can stop them.

 

“If it’s of your dick, I’m sure it’s small enough that no one can see it.”

 

Hux looks shocked, but the other male and the blonde burst out laughing, howling at the man’s expense. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.

 

“Oh, she’s fun,” the female praises, brushing her hair out of her face. “I like her.”

 

“Her is sitting right here and has a name,” Rey intones, raising a brow.

 

“Do tell, darling.”

 

Shaking her head, deciding almost automatically that she likes the blonde woman too, Rey introduces herself.

 

“I’m Rey.”

 

Hux nods, as if he’s already known this.

 

“Yes, known affectionately in the shop as ‘the girl that pushes all of Ren’s buttons’. We know who you are-”

 

“But we doubt Kylo’s extended us the courtesy of an introduction,” the woman finishes, smiling.

 

Hux nods towards the dark-haired man sitting in the black leather lounge chair across the room. Tattoos crept all up his neck, and a snakebite piercing flashed at her as he smiled. He was cute, in a puppy-dog sort of way.

 

“That’s Mitaka.”

 

The blonde once more cut Hux off, leaning forward to wink at her.

 

“I’m Phasma, and I think we’ve been friends ever since I flashed my tits at you. That’s true friendship, you know.”

 

Rey finds herself snorting, amused by the woman’s antics.

 

“That ass over there is my boyfriend, Hux. He’s the one you saw being tattooed on my back.”

 

“Should’ve just stamped ‘Property of Hux’ on your ass,” Hux comments leisurely, leaning casually against the door frame.

 

“But don’t you remember? ‘Property of Phasma’ is already stamped across yours, along with my signature,” his girlfriend simpers back, sending him a devilish smirk. Hux turns bright red, before clearing his throat in an attempt to bring order back to the conversation.

 

“Where’s Kylo?” Rey finds herself asking, almost immediately regretting the question once it leaves her lips.

 

“Ren’s out getting you coffee, lucky girl,” Phasma drawls, shooting Hux a look. “Even after four and a half years, some boyfriends won’t do that for their thirsty girlfriends. They make them drink the coffee from the breakroom.”

 

Hux smirks, sending Phasma a wink as he holds up his coffee cup in a salute. “I satiate your thirst in other ways.”

 

Mitaka makes a gagging sound, but Phasma giggles, holding Hux’s gaze. Rey feels like there’s about to be clothes coming off soon if she doesn’t interrupt.

 

She feels her heart in her throat, and her palms are slightly sweaty as she dares to ask the question that has been bothering her for two weeks. She  _needs_ answers.

 

“I- My friend, Finn, he used to work here?”

 

Hux’s face immediately goes hard, eyes flinty and cold. Mitaka coughs awkwardly, shifting in his seat while Phasma gives a slight sigh, choosing to slurp up more noodles.

 

“Used to being the keyword,” Hux sneers, looking the very image of disgust.

 

“Look, I don’t care about whatever feud you have going on between you all - leave me out of it,” Rey starts. “I just want to know what happened. I need-” here she pauses, thinking. “I need to hear both sides of the story, if there _is_ another side to it at all.”

 

Hux’s eyes once more flick to his girlfriend, concern imprinted there alongside anger. Phasma pauses in her eating to look up at Rey.

 

“What did Finn _tell_ you?”

 

Rey hesitates, before more-or-less reciting what Finn had told her. She waits with bated breath as Phasma sighs, sets her food on the table, and moves to sit on the last couch cushion, facing Rey.

 

“What he told you about Kylo putting those guys in the hospital is true.”

 

Rey’s face crumples, but she bites at her lip to try and keep her composure. How could she  _ever_ think Kylo was a good guy-

 

“But he didn’t know the whole story.”

 

Rey pauses, eyes flickering back up to meet Phasma’s serious gaze.

 

“Finn...he was a newcomer, didn’t know us as well as we knew each other. He fit in well enough, but...he just didn’t know some of our history.”

 

Phasma smiles up at Hux as he came to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders in a show of support.

 

“I...I had previously been in a pretty bad relationship. The guy I was with, well, he was abusive, to put it simply. Not just verbally or emotionally, but _physically_.”

 

Phasma took a breath, hand reaching up to twine with Hux’s on her shoulder. Rey’s own face contorted with compassion for her.

 

“I got out of it, stood up for myself, but he kept coming around, bothering me. One night, he and a couple of his buddies thought it would be a fun idea to corner me outside of work and-”

 

Phasma shook her head, mouth a thin line. Tears glistened faintly in her blue eyes.

 

“It doesn’t matter now what might have happened, because Kylo saved me. He taught them a lesson they would _never_ forget - saved my life, my sanity. Made me feel _safe_ for the first time in ages.”

 

Hux squeezed Phasma’s shoulder, thumb caressing her hand in his. Phasma shook her head, looking Rey right in the eye with an intensity that made her hair stand on end.

 

“Finn...he didn’t know any of that. I told Kylo that he could tell Finn about my past and what those _bastards_ were going to do, but Kylo said he wouldn’t say what was mine to tell. So Kylo let Finn hate him, let Finn believe the worst about him. For me.”

 

Rey released a shuddering breath, not able to process this.

 

“I was going to tell Finn. I really was. But I wasn’t _ready_ for a long time, wasn’t able to openly talk about it until Finn had already left. I tried telling him multiple times since then but he still has the wrong idea and won’t listen to me - won’t even acknowledge me because he believes I covered for Kylo when he didn’t deserve it.”

 

She shrugged, bringing Hux’s tense hand to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it. Hux almost immediately relaxed, slackening his grip. Satisfied, Phasma scooped up her ramen again, letting Hux massage her shoulders.

 

“I know Kylo is too good of a guy to ask me to explain that to you - to reveal that himself when it’s ‘mine to tell’. And I know he’s been suffering because of it - you both have. I can only hope this clears up the air.”

 

Rey sat in shock for a good five minutes, mouth parted and mind scrambling to catch up to what Phasma had just revealed.

 

“I-”

  
  
Rey shakes her head, unable to speak.

 

“He’s at the coffee shop on 6th, ‘ _Carrie’s Coffee_ ’, if you want to catch him before he gets back,” Phasma intones knowingly, flashing her a wink as she finishes off her noodles. Somehow, her lipstick is still immaculate.

 

“Thanks,” Rey gets out, before hurriedly grabbing her coat, bag, and shoes and booking it out the door.

 

Hux and Mitaka both sigh and reach for their wallets as soon as Rey’s gone, pulling out cash and slapping it into Phasma’s already open and waiting palm.

 

“I can’t believe you knew she would go to him,” Mitaka mutters, downing the rest of his coffee exasperatedly.  “Down to the damn  _second_.” Hux grumbles with him, having lost too much money to his girlfriend already.

 

“Never bet against love, boys,” Phasma intones as an answer, before tucking the bills into her bra and sauntering out to meet the first client of the morning.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo’s waiting on the coffee, one red-eye and a double-shot macchiato with three pumps of caramel; his phone suddenly buzzes and he’s surprised to see that Phas has texted him.

 

 **Phas** : Hux says not to bother coming back to work. Thank us later ;)

 

He tucks his phone away again, not bothering to reply to the cryptic message. Of course he’s going back to work. Rey is there.

 

At the thought of her, he feels an overwhelming confliction of emotions.  Anger, regret, sadness...all of them have their place inside him, fighting for dominance.

 

Yet when he sees the kid...a small sliver of happiness blossoms in his chest.

 

She can’t be more than 10 months old, with rosy cheeks and eyes not quite sure of their colour yet. She has quite a lot of hair despite her age, curls of bronze-brown that catch the light.

 

Suddenly, the child spits up, making the mother groan good-humouredly. Glancing about, she looks at Kylo with a chagrined expression.

 

“I should know better by now than to not carry a spit up rag, huh?” she says to him, shaking her head amusedly.

 

Kylo finds himself smiling in response, grabbing a stack of napkins near him and handing them to her. She smiles in appreciation.

 

“Thanks so much.”

 

Kylo watches as she struggles to wipe the spit up off her sweater with one arm. The mother sighs, before she casts a look at him.

 

“Would you hold her? I don’t usually ask strangers but...”

 

Kylo, with a start, realizes what she’s asking and has a moment of inner panic. Nevertheless, he finds himself reaching for the adorable child all the same.

 

“Her name’s Hanna,” the mother tells him, before she motions she’ll be right back and ducks into the restroom.

 

Kylo seats himself on the bench, holding the baby gingerly, so carefully. He can’t help but notice how _small_ she is, her head easily engulfed by one of his hands as he makes sure to support her neck.

 

Leia had gotten him to babysit her clients’ kids or the kids at her weddings many times before - since she’d left public office and done wedding planning fulltime when he was 15, actually.

 

The baby seems unperturbed by his presence, neither upset nor happy, some docile state in between. Slowly, he lays her on his arm, her head supported by the crook of his elbow as his other hand supports her tummy, and begins to gently rock her back and forth.

 

She finally cooes up at him, gurgling in happiness as he makes a funny face down at her. He wishes he had Hanna’s naivety, her pure happiness - untouched by the realities of the world thus far.

 

If he did, maybe he wouldn’t be so fucked up.

 

For example, the mere _thought_ of Rey has his stomach clenching. He’d built walls to make sure no one could get in, wreck him like his father, but...

 

He shakes his head, refusing to even think about it. If only he could tell her...explain to her....He knows that if he _could_ tell her, she’d understand. But he couldn’t put Phasma in that position, and he wouldn’t tell a story that wasn’t his to tell.

 

The day where Rey had thrown him out of the flower shop seems like decades ago, but the pain is just as sharp, just as smarting.

 

Collecting his mother’s orders had also been torture, and he’d handled Rey clinically - like business partners or something. Which is what she’d said she wanted them to be. _Not_ friends.

 

When he’d seen her yesterday, he’d been surprised at how quickly his attraction to her had flared, thinking that the pain she’d caused would have stifled that. Nevertheless, seeing that perfect ass had had him choking on breath.

  
And then, when she’d shown up at the shop-

 

He had to stop thinking about that, couldn’t think like that when he was holding a baby and was in a public coffee shop.

 

Besides, Rey would no doubt be gone by the time he got back and Phasma would rejoice at having a double-shot macchiato with three pumps of caramel syrup.

 

He glances back down at Hanna, surprised to find her face mirroring his own, brow furrowed and looking as if she is about to cry. Is that really what he looked like?

 

He re-schools his expression into one of happiness, but it doesn’t radiate to his eyes. Hanna knows - her face remains grumpy.

 

“Come on,” he cajoles, rocking her gently, chuckling slightly at her stubbornness.

 

She finally cracks a smile.

 

“A Monster, huh?”

 

His gaze flickers up, in shock and surprise, to find Rey standing there, rivaling Hanna’s smile with one of her own.

 

“I-”

 

He shakes his head, surprised that she is 1) smiling at _him_ and 2) even here.

 

Where did she....

 

Who….

 

How did she know where he was? Shouldn’t she be off nursing a hangover?

 

His eyes scan her form and find her shirt is still on backward, her hair every which way. She’s slightly panting, flushed with exertion. Had she run here? Why?

 

“How did you get here?” he finds himself asking aloud instead of every other more important question that is jumbled about his head.

 

“I stole the delivery truck,” she says, holding up the set of keys in her hand. “Poe’s gonna be _really_ pissed.”

 

Kylo shakes his head again, his gaze flickering down to where Hanna cooes quietly.

 

“Whose baby…” Rey trails off as the woman comes back from the bathroom and takes Hanna with an appreciative grin. She thanks him again, before grabbing her tea from the barista and making off.

 

Rey steps closer now, craning her head back to stare up at him. She is perhaps the most serious he’s ever seen her, hazel eyes clear and steady.

 

Her next words have his breath catching in his throat.

 

 _“Phasma told me.”_   


He’s in a state of disbelief. He feels such a strong rush of gratitude towards the blonde that he has to momentarily close his eyes.

 

Rey’s hand is suddenly warm and strong in his own. His eyes flick open in shock to find her gaze to be the same.

 

“I can’t…” she shakes her head, biting at her lip to try and contain her emotions. “I respect you _so_ _much_ for letting me believe the worst to keep her safe. That’s...Kylo, you _amaze_ me.”

 

He exhales a shaky breath, not wanting to admit how much her words mean to him.

 

“You had a sense of integrity that...that I could _never_ have myself. I would’ve been too selfish, but you…”

 

She peers hesitantly up at him, tracing shapes onto the palm of his hand with her thumbnail.

 

“You surprised me, Kylo. You’re..not at all what I expected. I want to get to know you better. I want...I want to try _this_ , whatever it is.” Another breath. “And I’m sorry.”

 

His heart leaps at her words. Fucking _leaps_ , as if he’s a naive little twelve-year-old boy again.

 

She, however, looks ashamed of herself. Though some part of him is still hurting from her rejection (the part of him that resents Han Solo???), he grasps her chin and raises her head to meet his gaze again.

 

“Hey, don’t do that - you didn’t know.”

 

Then- “I forgive you, Rey.”

 

She breathes a loud sigh, and her shoulders relax. She looks as though the weight of the world has been lifted from her small shoulders.

 

“When I tell Finn-”

  
Kylo’s face suddenly hardens and Rey pauses in the midst of her sentence.

 

“I _have_ to tell him, Kylo. He deserves to know the truth. You deserve to not be hated.”

 

Kylo shakes his head. “I don’t _deserve_ anything, Rey. Especially not if it compromises Phasma.”

 

Her face hardens in response.

 

“ _Kylo-_ ”

 

“ _Rey_ , it doesn’t matter. Let him hate me. I don’t care.”

 

“But he’ll listen to me,” she tries to stress.

 

“It doesn’t matter. If he wants to hate me,  _let him_.”

 

Rey crosses her arms, blowing out a harsh breath. She tries to rein in her temper, not wanting to destroy the peace they’d made today.

 

“Fine. I won’t tell him. But _you_ will.”

 

Kylo splutters, face darkening.

 

“You need to tell him the truth, Kylo. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually.” Her face is fierce determination. “He’s my best friend, Kylo. And if we’re going to do this, then I don’t want him hating you for the rest of our days.”

 

She seems to realise that she’s insinuated their relationship will last for a long time and is quick to add “Besides, Phasma said it was OK for you to tell him. She _wants_ you to.”

 

He’s silent still.

 

“This is my ultimatum, Kylo. _Please_.”

 

Kylo’s heart picked up at the word ‘ultimatum’. The last time he’d been given an ‘ultimatum’, he’d been forced to give up his own dreams and go to business school.

 

Rey steps closer at the sight of his obvious discomfort, grasping his forearm comfortingly.

 

“Hey. Look at me. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

 

He swallows thickly. “Fine. Okay.”

 

Her reassurance manages to calm him, but it is the smile that breaks on her lips, warming him like a ray of sunshine...it is _that_ that allows him to breathe easily once more.

 

Speaking of sunshine…..

 

The barista calls out his order, and he pulls away from Rey momentarily to grab the coffees. He hands her her usual order and as she grasps it, their hands brush. (He’s reminded of crackling firelight and warm whiskey.)

 

Her eyes scan the coffee cup and, despite the fact that it’s not the usual place he goes, there on the cup in stark black marker are the words “My Rey of Sunshine”.

 

Her smile grows wider, her freckled nose scrunching cutely as she pulls a face.

 

“I had to,” he chuckles out, swiping his thumb across the arch of her cheekbone. The action surprises him - so affectionate, yet it felt so _normal_.

 

She stills at the contact, making him worried he’s done too much too soon. Instead-

 

“Kylo….I _do_ remember last night.”

 

At her confession, his hand tightens around his coffee cup.

 

“Oh.”

 

Rey flicks her gaze to him, a rosy blush colouring her cheeks.

 

“I wanted to apologize. I don’t get drunk often because when I do...well, you saw what happened.”

 

She awkwardly shuffles her feet, takes a deep breath.

 

“But even though I’m apologizing...I don’t _regret_ it. Not one second.”

 

She takes a sip of her coffee to fill the silence as if she hadn’t just delivered him a blow that knocked him breathless. Temptress' eyes glance up at him from her fringe of dark lashes.

 

“Me neither,” he manages to get out, his voice cracking slightly.

 

She smirks into her coffee cup.

 

“Good.”

 

He nods, as if he isn’t suddenly tight in his pants. He blames his speeding heart on the coffee.

 

“Do you...do you want to go somewhere?”

 

Rey lifts a brow at his question.

 

“I mean, like- if you want to - or we could not-”

 

“Don’t you have work?”

 

Kylo remembers the text suddenly.

 

“No, I’m off for today,” he manages to get out without tripping over his own tongue.

 

“Then yes. I already stole the delivery truck. What’s a day of skipping work?”

 

His heart thunders in his chest, and his palms are sweaty, but he’s...happy.

 

As he holds the door for her on the way out of the shop, her eyes catch the light. Kylo had thought them green, but outside in the sunlight, they glinted amber. It must have been all the green that surrounded her in the flower shop that made her eyes seem like the same dappled shade.

 

“How’s your coffee?” he asks her.

 

“It’s perfect.” She takes another small sip as she meets his sable gaze. He smiles.

 

 _Yes, you are_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forsythia Flower Meaning: 'Anticipation; Awkward Meetings; Nervous Realizations'


	9. Black Orchid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each of our dynamic duo take each other on a date. Smut finally finally happens. Woohooo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is two days late bc school has been crazy and depression has bit my ass yet again. but i'm doing a lot better now and am inspired again! your lovely comments and support and feedback make every chapter of this fic possible - and I'm so so so grateful for each and every one of you beautiful souls! <3
> 
> reference to ACOTAR/ACOMAF with Kylo's knee tattoos and also the "open wide" tattoo comes from a book that I cannot remember for the LIFE of me :'(((

“This has got to be the weirdest date I’ve ever been on,” Kylo comments as Rey tugs him into another aisle of the bookshop, fingers interlocked.

 

Rey pretends to pout, but can’t hold it when she meets Kylo’s amused gaze. She stifles her giggles behind her hand, finally stopping at a section.

 

Glancing upwards, the words “Classical Literature” imprinted on the rustic wooden slat above the bookshelf stares back at Kylo amidst weird little booklets of paper pressed to the sides of the bookshelves and dangling pens on twine.

 

“W-”

  
Rey hushes him. “Just _wait_.”

 

He huffs as she peruses the titles, brushing her fingertips over the spines of the books with a gentle sort of reverence.  Honestly, he could wait forever, just watching the soft smile curve on her lips and the joy that paints her eyes a light chestnut - highlights the flecks of gold and emerald he knows lay dormant there.

 

“Here,” she finally breathes, pulling a title from the shelf with care. _Pride and Prejudice_ is embossed on the dark blue cover in gilded letters.

 

He groans.

  
“Not that one,” he complains good-naturedly, shaking his head.

 

Rey holds a hand to her chest in mock-disgust.

 

“You don’t like a literary classic? One of the best romance stories to ever be written?”

 

A snort. “It’s hardly a romance. Darcy’s an ass  _and_ an idiot.”

 

Rey raises a brow. “So you’ve read it then?”

 

A flush colours his cheeks (and she knows his ears too, though they’re covered by his dark waves). She smiles; she’s caught him.

 

“Here,” she offers him the book open to a certain page. He takes it gingerly, small in his large hands.

 

“What?”

 

“ _Read_ ,” she prompts, tapping the paragraph with her index finger in indication.

 

Sighing, he begins-

 

“ _‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'_ ”

 

His eyes flicker up to her as he turns the page, before resuming.

 

Rey almost wishes she’s recording him. Not because the big bad Kylo Ren, tattooed and wearing all black, was reading a notorious love scene from one of the most romantic classics of all time (though that would’ve been nice blackmail material, she admits), but because his voice was actually...nice.

 

Rich and honeyed, the words fall from his tongue with a kind of surprising familiarity that indicated he knew the words well. Swelling with emotion, he painted a picture in her mind’s eye of a man and a woman, a strained sense of love between them, confronting one another in a small sitting room parlor.

 

“' _You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.'_

 

 _And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house._ ”

 

He finished, but the impact of the words still resonate in the air somehow, soft and golden and sonorous. The space between them is hushed, a reverant sort of quiet that one found in churches bearing multi-coloured flecks from stained-glass windows or when one beholds beautiful art.

 

“It’s Leia’s favourite book,” he finally breaks the silence with, closing it and moving to brush a thumb over the spine gently.

 

“Wait.”

  
  
Rey halts his hand, reopening the book and flicking through the pages until she stops. Lying on the page is a lilac piece of paper, small and square upon the cream page.

 

_Know you can always begin again._

 

Printed in near-perfect block letters, the note is serendipitous and beautiful. Seeing the note in the book, all the bundles of paper on the bookshelves make sense now - they are StickyNotes.

 

“This is what I love about this bookstore. It acts like a shop and a library - some books are for sale and some are for reading.”

 

She flips a few more pages until another StickyNote is visible, this one bearing a beautiful sketch of two hands touching, compliments of the 2005 movie.

 

“The owner encourages people to leave little notes in the books for the future owners or readers. I think it’s a really brilliant idea.”

 

She grabs a StickyNote from the pad on the wall, then grabs one of the pens tied to the case.

 

“What should we say?” she asks, biting her lip in concentration.

 

Kylo thinks for a moment, before hesitantly entwining her fingers with his on her other hand.

 

“You’re not alone.”

 

His offer immediately has Rey casting a tender gaze on him, smiling slightly as he strokes his thumb across her hand. She scribbles the words down in her messy handwriting, followed by a rough sketch of a baby’s breath blossom. She scribbles down her first name and then starts to write Kylo’s when he stops her.

 

“Ben.”

 

She pauses, gaze flickering up, shock and pleasant surprise written on her face.

 

“Are you-”

 

“Ben,” he says again to her question, voice firm and sure.

 

And so there it is, written in ink: _Rey + Ben._

 

Smiling, she flips a few pages back and presses it onto the page that Kylo had read from. She is again surprised as Kylo reaches for a pen and a StickyNote.

 

He proceeds to write,  in perfect calligraphic writing no less:  _Darcy is an idiotic asshole._

 

 (Done by the amazing @reylocalligraphy on Tumblr!)

“Calligraphy, huh?” Rey asks, raising a brow as he puts the StickyNote on the next page, after Darcy leaves the Elizabeth. He closes the book and replaces it on the wooden shelf.

 

“I took a class or two for tattooing.” He flushes slightly, which gives him away.

 

“Maker, you’re a nerd,” she teases as she tugs on his hand once more to lead him away from the section. She can just imagine him sitting at a table meticulously tracing the letters out one by one, ink smearing his hands and the page until every letter is finally perfect.

 

“I am _not-_ ”

 

“It’s your turn to take me somewhere,” she interrupts his useless denial. “Wow me. _Amaze_ me. Make my jaw drop.”

 

He smirks, pulling her back into his chest as they leave the shop.

 

“If you wanted to see my cock, you need only ask,” he breathes into her hair just above her ear, his warm breath making her shiver as he skews her words.

 

She makes an indignant noise that’s not quite strong enough to convince him she’s _not_ tempted.

 

“You’re a monster,” she mutters, half-heartedly.

 

“In bed,” he agrees.

 

She shrieks again.

 

* * *

 

Rey expected him to take her to another coffeeshop honestly. Or maybe back to the tattoo shop.

 

Instead, after lunch, she finds herself inside a greenhouse at the Botanical Gardens.

 

She’s an excited buzz of pure excitement since they’ve pulled in. She’s always wanted to go, but never had the chance or the motivation. Inwardly, she’s sort of glad she got to share her first experience with Kylo…

 

Or maybe it’s _Ben_ now.

 

As she pulls open the doors and is immediately hit with a blast of humid air, she smiles. It smells different than her flower shop, the more exotic melodies of the flowers’ and plants’ scents lingering in the air. It’s clean and fresh and new - and she _loves_ it. Loves how green and beautiful it smells.

 

Almost immediately, Kylo is pressed to keep up with the whirlwind of energy she’s become, flitting from plant to plant, naming each one and telling him “this one we use in bouquets” and “this one was first discovered in Africa” and “this one is used in medicines”.

 

She drags him along with her, from each green thing to the next, a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge.

 

He doesn’t mind. Not at all.

 

In fact, he thinks he could listen all day to her excitedly gush about the tiger-striped candlewicks, how they opened at night to reveal their bioluminescent pollen clusters that would float into the air and drift idly on breezes until they pollinated another.

 

They finally make it through the veritable jungle of plants and flowers, stopping at the occasional waterfall and reflecting pool to sit or throw in a coin.

 

As they make their way back outside, Rey tugs Kylo to a stop.

 

Looking up at him through snowflake-speckled lashes, she smiles, and he feels his heart do a weird flip in his chest that he tries to shove away.

 

“Thank you, Kylo. Really. That was...I haven’t had that much fun in ages.”

 

His lips pull back in a smile, something he doesn’t do much of except around her it seems, and it’s odd how natural it feels.

 

The snow falls softly around their forms, caressing pink-tinged cheeks and settling in their hair.

 

“It’s snowing,” Rey breathes quietly, eyes flickering up.

 

He wonders if she’s thinking about that day spent at his parents - that night that they spent together, amber and firelit.

 

Her eyes flicker back to him, then down. To his lips.

 

He reaches up unconsciously to swipe a thumb across her cheekbone, to brush away the wetness there left by the snowflakes melting on her flushed skin. His hand remains though, gently cupping her right cheek; her eyes flutter slightly at the contact.

 

And then he’s leaning in, keeping eye contact with her until he’s forced to close his eyes as he presses his lips to her own.

 

There’s a spark. Literally.

 

“Ow!”

 

Rey jumps, as she’s shocked by their lips colliding. She immediately dissolves into laughter, especially at Kylo’s somewhat bewildered face which morphs quickly into annoyance.

 

“Fucking static electricity,” he mutters gruffly, swiping at his still tingling lips.

 

But then Rey, radiant and smiling, is recapturing his lips with her own, petal soft and sweet.

 

His mind sort of goes blank, like when he sees a particularly stunning sunset or is hard at work crafting a tattoo. It’s a beautiful sort of clarity, shared between the two of them, synchronous and iridescent.

 

Her hands bury in his hair, leaning down as he is to try and match her height. One of his own still cups her cheek, while the other settles on her lower back to gently pull her into his body.

 

He hesitantly swipes his tongue along the seam of her lips, but she opens to him, just as curious. He can’t help but think how much better even  _kissing_ feels now that she’s sober; her thoughts echo his own.

 

To his dismay, she gently pulls away again, but stays close enough that her breath still warms his face.

 

“Let’s go back to my place.”

 

It’s a question. He can hear it. He has an answer.

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Her apartment is a quaint, miscellaneous mix of items that seems to somehow scream “Rey”. All natural-light windows and bright colours and _plants_.

 

Plants everywhere.

 

They cover every available surface - tables and walls and counters. She has a line of succulents on all of her window ledges, and air plants dangle from the ceiling.

 

It’s refreshing and sweet and so _Rey_ ; he’s immediately enraptured by seeing where she lives. It’s as if she’s opened a door to another part of her, in a literal way.

 

“It’s a bit messy,” Rey laughs out, gathering stray pieces of laundry in her arms as well as throwing away some old take-out containers.

 

“It’s fine,” he promises her. And it is.

 

She flushes as she follows his gaze to where a pair of her panties are slung over the couch and hurriedly gathers more laundry in her arms.

 

“I’ll be right back,” she promises in a rushed voice, before hurrying off down the hall, cheeks flaming. He’s left to his own devices, and so he looks around.

 

She’s got a veritable collection of small elephant figurines lining her mantle, all elaborately painted and seemingly carved from wood. Sitting there too are photos of her and Finn and Poe and pictures of a white and orange corgi gazing adoringly up into the camera. Polaroids too line her walls, strings and strings of them amidst her plants, which are fitted in little bronze holders mounted into the wall.

 

Before he has any longer to look around, Rey returns, having shed three layers and appearing comfortable in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

 

“Here,” she offers, trying to pull his coat off him unsuccessfully from her smaller height. His lips twitched, but he shrugs his shoulders, allowing the coat to come off in her hands. She throws it over the back of the couch, then throws herself on top of it.

 

“Netflix?” she asks, though she’s already pulling up the queue. He walks around and toes off his shoes, before he settles down next to her.

 

Two episodes into “Black Mirror” later, and they’ve settled into a comfortable position. Behind her, his body practically moulds to hers as she’s tucked into him. His hand is barely under her shirt, idly tracing patterns onto the skin of her stomach with teasing fingers. Patterns of tattoos he’d love to ink onto her golden skin.

 

He begins pressing kisses onto her neck, nipping there lightly. She shivers, her fingers delicately tracing the tattoo on the forearm that is wrapped around her. She can feel him start to harden against her backside as he pulls her closer. Craning her head back, she meets his mouth in a kiss, slow fire kindling in her belly at the feel of his lips on hers.

 

Though the show still plays in the background, neither are watching it any longer.

 

He presses her deeper into the frumpy couch, shifting so he’s hovering above her, resting on his forearms. He gazes down at her for a few seconds, backlit by the tv, and Rey thinks she’s never seen a more beautiful human being in her whole life.

 

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” she asks him, running her hand through his hair.

 

He blinks once, twice, brows furrowing in what looks like disbelief.

 

“I mean it, Ben.”

 

Her voice is firm. It’s the first time she’s called him by his given name, and she’s not sure what she’s expecting of his reaction.

 

It’s certainly not him  _crying_.

 

“Kylo, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

 

“No,” he rasps, shaking his head. “Call me Ben, please... _please_.”

 

Hesitantly, she nods her head, carding her hand through his hair again. He presses his cheek into her hand as it drifts down to cup his cheek like he had her own earlier. A swipe of her thumb, wiping away his few fallen tears. She leans up to press her lips to his chastely, more of a reminder that she’s here and she’s not going anywhere than an attempt to start anything. But he won’t let her pull back, keeping their lips locked as she settles back down.

 

Sighing softly, she melts into the kiss, finding a warmth and comfort in him that she associates with hot mugs of tea, group hugs with Finn and Poe, and flowers.

 

The thought startles her. He makes her feel like _flowers_ make her feel.

 

She shoves the newly minted idea to the back of her head, something for her to fret over and analyse later.

 

Now, though-

 

She grinds into him desperately, already wetter than she’s willing to admit. It's surprising to her how quickly they merge from Ben's tears to pure heat, but it seems that they understand one another on deeper levels than either expected. It is an easy push and pull between them, a kind of bond that connects them.

 

“Bedroom,” she mutters against his lips then, and he’s scooping her up bridal style and carrying her towards the hallway. “Third door,” between sloppy kisses, between the slide of lips and clack of teeth and mash of noses.

 

The bed finally meets her back, and then he’s all she can taste, see, _feel_. His lips on hers, her hands shucking off his shirt and then her own, his member pressing into her stomach as she scrabbles for the button of his jeans.

 

He stills her eager hands with one of his own when she tries to reach beneath his jeans to caress him, pressing a reassuring kiss to her lips. He mouths his way to her ear. “Remember my promise... _Slowly_.”

 

Undue, his words from last night echo in her ears. _I want you to feel and remember every place I lick, touch, and_ **_bite_** _._

 

She groans in annoyance, but allows him to slow their pace, teasing. His hands, so _large_ , caress up her sides until they’re cupping her breasts, thumbing over her nipples.

 

There will be plenty more times for him to fuck her senseless - he hopes. But right now, he is determined to take her to heights she’s never experienced, to give her the best sex of her life - something she’ll always look back and remember him by.

 

The thought of her having to remember him makes him feel odd - strangely hollow. She shouldn’t have to remember him. She should be _with_ him.

 

He shoves away the thought alongside his pants.

 

She arches into him, letting a slight breathy moan flutter out of her lips as he lowers his raven head to kiss his way between her breasts. His tongue flickers out, rolling over her nipples one at a time. He nips at the delicate underside of one, causing her to spasm slightly against him. She can feel his smirk against her skin.

 

“I could tattoo you here,” he tells her, licking at her breasts. “Right here. Flowers ringing the undersides of your breasts.”

 

She moans at the thought, unbidden on her lips.

 

“Or maybe here.”

 

He shifts down to press an open-mouthed kiss to her lower stomach, just below her belly button.

  
Rey is panting now, and she knows exactly how this is going to end. She _craves_ it.

 

He works her sweatpants off at a torturous pace, sliding the material off her legs. She’s left in a pair of barely-there black panties, which he toys with the hem of.

 

“Have you been good enough to have these come off?” he asks her, a brow raising above dangerously-glittering eyes. His thumb strokes the crotch of the small piece of lace, finding it wet with her arousal.

 

“Ben, please,” she pleads, needing his lips, his touch, _anything_ he’ll give her. She aches for friction.

 

In response, he languorously tugs at her panties with his pointer finger, working them down and off her so slowly that she’s left a simmering ball of anticipation.

 

Finally, she’s bare and beautiful before him, like a blank canvas that he itches to paint on.

 

“Let me tattoo you,” he breathes against her hipbone, his breath caressing her skin.

 

Rey nods.

 

“Yes. I was going to- to ask you,” she manages despite a hitch in her breath.

 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her other hipbone.

 

“Next week? On Friday?”

 

She nods again, hands burying in his hair as he licks into her. “Yes,” she answers just as he flicks his tongue against her clit.

 

The word turns into a jumble of unrecognizable sounds, followed by a slow groan. And then the word “More”.

 

He’s happy to oblige her.

 

Two orgasms later, she tugs him back up to her lips, tasting herself on his wicked tongue. She’s sensitive now, but in the best way. And she needs him inside her like she needs breath.

 

He seems to echo her sentiments as she manages to simultaneously push him down, straddle him, and work his briefs off. He’s large, larger than she’d been expecting, but she’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

 

“Of course you want to be on top,” he mutters humorously, huge hands smoothing over her waist.

 

She smiles in response, interlocking their hands and pushing them down on either side of his head as she raises herself.

 

“Wait, do I need a condom-”

 

She shakes her head as she positions herself above him and he chokes at the sight of her about to impale herself on him.

 

“IUD,” she manages, before she slowly, _finally_ presses down on him.

 

The stretch of him is a lot inside her - she hasn’t been intimate in so long and he’s bigger than anyone she’s ever been with - but it's a _good_ burn. Inch by inch, she slides down onto him, finally settled to the root with a low whimper in the back of her throat.

 

He keeps his eyes locked on hers the whole time, gauging her pain, thumb smoothing along the soft skin of her hand in reassurance and comfort. It doesn’t take long for the pain to begin morphing into pleasure and she rocks her hips experimentally against him.

 

They both release a low groan at the shared experience.

 

The friction is delicious, the fullness of him inside her, brushing depths she can’t reach with her fingers. At this angle, it’s not hard to hit her g-spot, and each undulation of her hips proves her point. He allows her to have full-reign, setting the pace, content to watch her with dark eyes.

 

As she rides him rather leisurely, rolling her hips, her eyes make a slow perusal of his body. He’s all muscle and tattoos, a heady combination that has her hips stuttering suddenly against him.  
  
This was why she wanted to be on top. To be able to see the expanse of his tattoos. To see as many as she possibly could.

 

They cover his arms, like arm wraps almost. A snake twines around his bicep and a wolf howls and a raven is mid-flight alongside an odd looking sunken mask. They litter his shoulders too. Surprisingly, his chest is almost entirely bare, but a tattoo of a dragon caresses over his side, starting low at his back she assumes.

 

There’s text written all over him too, but she’s too lazy to read all of them except the one just above his pubic hair. Squinting closer, she chuckles slightly at the words “ **open wide** ” in clean, simple text.

 

“Really?” she asks him between pants, wrinkling her nose in humour as she continues to press her hips into his own. “Hux’s dare,” he answers with a strained smirk.

 

Darting her gaze lower, there are twin geometric mountains just above his knees, spanning the width of his powerful thighs. She can’t make out anything else in her position, but she’s sure she’ll come to know each of his tattoos intimately soon enough. The thought gives her a thrill, inner muscles clenching deliciously.

 

She’s starting to get close, feeling that familiar build, and from his clenched jaw and swelling cock, he is too.

 

She grinds down harder into him, going deeper, picking up her pace as she sweats and pants above him. She lets go of his hands to prop herself up on his shoulders, his hands moving to her hips to help her slide up and down on him.

 

It’s all suddenly too much, the delicious way her breasts bounce with each thrust of him up into her, the slick clamp of her around him, the shuddering pulses of her cunt. Her head thrown back as her face scrunches up. He thrusts up one more time, burying himself deep inside her before he cums with a sound that’s a mix between a groan, a whine, and a growl.

 

She rotates her hips a few more times before she’s pushed over too, gasping as her arms shake above him and she feels the warmth of him spill into her.

 

“ _Holy fucking shit_ ,” she manages after a few minutes of catching her breath atop him, his member sliding out of her as she raises herself on shaking legs and manages to collapse next to him on her bed. His spend trickles down her thighs, but she can’t be bothered to think about what a mess she’s making on her bedspread.

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” is all he can really get out, still breathing as though he’s run a marathon.

 

Her limbs - her entire body - feels both light as a feather and like it weighs a _ton_ , tingling and warm. Nevertheless, she turns on her side to find him already staring at her.

 

They say nothing for a while, just staring at one another in a way she’s never done in her entire life with _anyone_ after sex. Her hand absentmindedly traces the sunflower on his forearm as his thumb rubs soothing circles into her back.

 

“Will you really let me do your tattoo?” he asks her, voice surprisingly hushed between the two of them.

 

Rey looks surprised. “Of course. I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

 

A real smile pulls at his lips, and, _goddamn_ , she loves it. She’s determined to make him smile more. Not the lip twitches he usually pulls, but full-blown smiles. With _teeth_.

 

“Good,” he says.

 

And it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Orchid meaning: exotic love; seduction; loss of innocence; sexual passion
> 
>  
> 
> {This chapter is dedicated to Chloé bc she's my peanut and i love her so much; and also to @reylocalligraphy from Tumblr who did the amazing calligraphic writing included above!}


	10. Baby's Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower girl finally gets inked by her sexy emo honeypot. AKA 'Rey reacts in a surprising way to being tattooed.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment guessing why you think this chapter is entitled Baby's Breath, besides the obvious reason that Rey gets a tattoo of baby's breath. ;)

This is what Rey's tattoo looks like but on her upper thigh!!! I thought you guys might like a look at the social media side of Effloresce! :P <3

* * *

 

“ _Hurry_. Poe comes in in twenty minutes.”

 

The words are a rush of breath against the skin of his neck as she helps him pull down her pants.

 

He groans at the sight of her in white lace panties, stark against her naturally golden skin. He knows, though, that she’ll look that much more beautiful without them.

 

He tugs them down, lets them fall around her ankles where her pants are as he lifts her and pushes into her warm wetness in the same breath.

 

They both groan, Rey resting her forehead against Ben's chest as he begins to thrust into her. Her back against the door of the backroom as he pushes into her again and again. The boxes of imported candlewick flowers on the shelf beside them shake precariously.

 

“If you,” Rey starts, voice breathy and interrupted by her own panting. “If you cause those….flowers to fall….you’re going to be...in trouble,” she finally manages to get out, gasping as he wraps one strong, tattooed arm around her waist to hoist her up even higher against the door.

 

It changes the angle of him inside her, and she keens as he hits that spot that has her legs shaking. (She’s suddenly glad he’s supporting her - she doesn’t think she’d be able to stand otherwise.)

 

“Be...quiet,” he growls to her between his own panting, pressing her back further into the door as he captures her lips in a demanding kiss. “Be quiet and...and _come_ for me, scavenger.”

 

She bites his lip, hard enough to make him groan against her lips.

 

“How about _you_ be quiet...and _make_ me, monster.”

 

He brushes that spot again with a hard thrust and she lets out a sharp cry against him, lower muscles clenching in anticipation of the waves of pleasure that are going to overtake her soon. So  _soon_ , so _close_ ….

 

“Rey? You here yet?”

 

Rey curses as she hears Poe’s familiar voice through the closed door of the backroom that she is currently being fucked within an inch of her life against. Ben doesn’t stop, instead smirking as he continues to thrust his hips into her own. The _prick_.

 

“Rey?”

 

The voice is much closer, and Rey squirms against Ben, panting as he continues to press into her, over and over. She doesn’t want him to stop.

 

“Yeah, Poe. I’m-” She gasps in a breath. “ _I’m in here!_ ”

 

Ben slams his lips back onto hers just as she releases a very loud moan, essentially stifling the sound. His hips grind into her, making her shudder against him, whimpering against his lips.

 

The door handle jiggles.

 

“Why is the door locked?”

 

Rey slams her head back against the door, no doubt startling Poe.

 

“I don’t know. It...it must be _jammed_.”

 

Ben laves at her throat with his tongue, sucking a bruise there that she knows she’ll have to cover up later.

 

“What are you _doing_ in there?”

 

Rey’s fingernails dig into Ben's biceps as his cock twitches inside her, her own muscles on the brink…

 

“Moving the _candlewick_ _flowers_ ,” she manages, the last two words strained and breathless.

 

There’s a pause then-

 

“Are you close to finishing? I need in there.”

 

Ben chuckles lowly against her throat, the sound strained as he’s filling her  _again and again and again_.

 

“Oh, she’s close to _finishing_ all right,” he murmurs, and Rey spasms around him at his words.

 

“ _Yes, soon_ ,” is her stilted, strained response, thankfully followed by the sound of Poe sighing and walking away.

 

Ben exhales heavily against her skin. “Are you going to come for me, scavenger?”

 

The words are barely audible amidst his heavy panting and grunts. She nods all the same, tears gathering in her eyes at the intense pleasure she feels, wanting it to finally peak, to wash over her.

 

“Going to let me...fill you up while...while he’s right outside?”

 

Rey writhes against him, stars sparking behind her closed eyes.

 

She’s finally there, and so is he.

 

“Come for me,” he grunts.

 

She does. A panting mess, fingernails digging in, and legs clenched around his waist. He follows easily, pushed over that same edge, thrusting into her a few more lazy times as he softens.

 

As soon as he sets her down, she’s hurriedly getting dressed, his spend running down her lean, golden thighs. He shakes his head at the fact that mere minutes ago those legs were locked around his form in a vice grip as he tosses her her underwear along with his discarded t-shirt.

  
She looks at him questioningly as she catches the garment, so he motions to the sticky mess at her thighs. Words of protests are at her lips when-

 

“I have an extra shirt at the shop,” he promises her, and, with a small smile of gratitude, she uses his shirt to clean herself up.

 

Once both of them are more-or-less dressed, Ben's black winter coat covering his bare chest, he sweeps her up for a kiss.

 

“I’ll see you tonight still? Are you excited?” he breathes against her mouth, eyes decadent as molten chocolate.

 

She nods, butterflies in her stomach. Her first tattoo, and from _him_ , no less.

 

“Tonight,” she promises with a smile.

 

He presses another kiss to her lips, soft and sweet, before leaving her with a wink, slipping out the back door to his own shop.

 

Rey hurriedly makes sure that everything is in its place before unlocking the door, Ben's shirt bunched up in her hands behind her back.

 

Poe sweeps in, hair artfully disheveled and an attractive five o’clock shadow covering his angular jaw.

 

“It  _stinks_ of sex in here,” he comments, setting down two large bottles of flower feed.

 

Rey flushes, even though both Poe and Finn know she is in a relationship with Ben, have known since she told them a week ago, on the day after she and Ben had had their date.

  
That conversation had been... _awkward_ to say the least. Horrible to say the worst. At first, yelling and cursing and ‘Even after what I told you?!’s. But, after repeated reassurances that Ben (“Who the hell is Ben?!”) was not the bad guy they thought he was, that there was more to the story (“Sorry, but I can’t say exactly _what_.”), and that people were capable of change, the two had eventually relented with grudging acceptance. That said, they still didn’t really talk to Ben other than to mutter pleasantries when forced into the same confines together.

Still, it was better than the alternative, Rey had to admit.

 

Poe had a much easier time with the whole ordeal than Finn did. Rey knew that Finn still _hated_ the idea of it, was still undeniably angry at her - but he would _never_ break off their friendship. They loved each other, and love meant sticking through the tough times and the inevitable rough patches.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rey finally answers, shrugging her shoulders in practised ease.

 

Poe shakes his head at her response, a smirk on his lips. He taps her nose with his index finger, making it automatically scrunch in annoyance.

 

“You’re a horrible liar, Sunshine….Then again, at least you’re finally getting some. You’ve been decidedly more relaxed over the past week. Now that I think of it, it _must_ be the sex.”

 

Rey’s mouth pops open in righteous indignation, before she pulls a single hand out from behind her back and punches Poe in the arm. _Hard_.

 

Poe chuckles, hands held up, but still not concerned at her threats of bodily harm.

 

“Hey, don’t beat _me_. You’re supposed to be beating _his_ meat.”

 

Rey lets out an irritated yell and stomps out of the room, shirt in hand, Poe’s laughter following her all the way.

 

* * *

 

She sits in the same room - in the same _chair_ \- that Ben had fucked the shit out of her in just three days prior. She’s sure it’s been cleaned since then, but it gives her a small thrill, nonetheless.

 

The thrill might also be from her stomach jumping up and down though. She’s nervous, impatient, excited, and an absolute bloody _mess_.

 

She lays down her sketchbook on the side table, sweaty finger marks beginning to mar the page. Ben had already scanned it to make the stencil for her tattoo, so she guesses it matters little if she fucked up the drawing now.

 

Phasma’s blonde head pops in the doorway, a bright smile on her face.

 

“Ready to lose your tattoo virginity?”

 

Rey chuckles nervously, thinking that the joke would be lame coming from anyone _but_ Phasma.

 

“Kylo came in this morning without a shirt on, and remarkably smelled like sex. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

 

Phasma shakes her head, continuing without giving Rey time to answer. “Hux and Mitaka wouldn’t let him live it down. He’s been affectionately nicknamed ‘Beefcake’ and ‘Sexy emo honeypot’.”

 

Her words earn a real laugh from Rey as she wipes her sweaty palms against the material of her jeans.

 

Phasma notices - _of course she does_.

 

“Don’t worry,” Phasma intones, slipping inside to perch beside her on the chair. “Don’t tell him this, his ego’s already big enough, god help us, but Kylo’s one of the most brilliant artists I’ve ever seen. He has this way of rendering his work, like he breathes some type of living essence into it. It’s marvelous to watch.”

 

Her words relieve Rey’s anxiety a bit, and allows her to breathe a bit more deeply, less shallow.

 

Phasma leans closer. “I promise, everything will be fine. You have a high pain tolerance - I can tell. And he’ll be with you the whole time.”

 

Phasma waits until Rey nods to stand, turning around to pull up her shirt and expose her lower back. There, in stark ink, is Hux’s visage, looking so realistic and lifelike that Rey’s breath catches in her throat. What she had seen the bare outlines of before, there lies an almost portrait-like tattoo, catching the smallest of details - from the gleam in his eye to the shadow beneath his jaw.

 

“Proof of his amazing work,” Phasma intones, glancing behind her at Rey.

 

Just then, Ben knocks and slips in, pausing as he sees Phasma.

 

“Trying to seduce my girlfriend?” he asks good-humouredly, raising a brow in amusement.

 

Phasma winks back at him, dropping her shirt again.

 

“She knows that if she ever wants a bit of fun to come to me, cupcake.”

 

Rey snorts at Ben's aggrieved expression at being called ‘cupcake’, which makes Ben's mouth twitch in response. Rey’s laugh is contagious.

 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Have fun, and I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

 

Phasma slips out with one last wink and a flick of her fingers in a mockery of a wave.

 

Rey feels her stomach lurch again at the prospect of what is about to happen.

 

“How are you feeling?” her boyfriend asks, coming around to sit on the rolling stool to her left. He reaches back to put his hair in a man bun, and Rey feels her stomach lurch in a way that is decidedly _not_ nerves. He’s so hot, she can hardly process it sometimes _._

 

“Nervous. Excited,” Rey tries to explain around her clumsy tongue, and he nods in understanding.

 

“That’s normal,” he intones, sending her a warm smile. He swipes a thumb over her cheekbone, a quickly-formed habit of his, and watches colour bloom on her cheeks in response.

 

Rey takes a brief moment to appreciate how large his hands are as he slides on a pair of black nitrile gloves from the sterile tray beside the chair. He gently takes hold of her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her black sweater to bare her forearm. Rests it on the arm of the chair.

 

She swallows. It was now or never.

 

“Ben, I, uh, I changed my mind.”

 

He pauses, brow quirked.

 

“So you don’t want the tattoo? Or you don’t want me doing it?”

 

Rey’s head is already shaking at his words, at the brief flash of hurt that echoes in his eyes as he voices the second question. He’s always so quick to assume that she thinks the worst of him. She _must_ change that.

 

“No, I changed my mind about where I want it.”

 

Ben stills, before his sable gaze meets hers.

 

“Oh?”

 

Rey releases a barely-audible breath, eyes still locked with his.

 

“I-” She swallows, her throat suddenly constricting. Heat prickles at her cheeks and chest.

 

“I want it on my thigh. My _upper_ thigh.”

 

He pretends like his heart didn’t just jump into his throat, like his pants weren’t suddenly just a little bit _tighter_.

 

“If that’s where you want it,” he breathes, more than happy to oblige her.

 

“It is,” she reiterates, pretending like her nerves haven’t melted away into something more silken, more sonorous, more _heated_.

 

“I’ll probably need to take off my jeans, right?”

 

He clears his throat, and she’s vaguely amused to see a slight flush coloring his face, the tips of his ears.

 

“Um, yeah, you will.”

 

His voice is higher, cracking ever-so-slightly. She smirks as she slides off the chair, before shimmying out of her jeans.

 

She’s wearing the same white lace panties as earlier, and his mouth is suddenly very dry as he watches her perfect, peach-shaped ass slightly bounce as she works the jeans the rest of the way off her. She folds them and places them on the chair in the corner of the room and...does she bend over slightly more exaggerated than normal?

 

“How do you want me?”

 

The words have him twitching in his pants, and he closes his eyes to control himself. He lowers the chair with a press of his foot on the electronic button, watches as it reclines.

 

“Lay on your side, like fetal position, facing me,” he instructs, his voice finally coming out normally. He doesn’t want to admit how much she’s affecting him.

 

She climbs up, and _goddamnit_ , seeing her on all fours on the chair as she shifts into the position he’s told her has him clenching his jaw, clenching his fists.

 

He thinks it’s funny that he’s seen all sorts of women in all various states of undress for his job, yet just a glimpse of Rey seems so much more intimate. She affects him so much, it’s almost frightening at times.

 

She finally settles how he’s told her, her sweater ruched up around the dip at her waist, baring the lower half of her smooth, taut stomach. The curve of her shapely thighs into the swell of her supple ass is on full display, and he has to think of _his_ _mother_ and _sand_ and other things that will do the exact _opposite_ of turning him on.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

Rey nods where her head is resting pillowed on her crooked elbow, looking much more relaxed than when he first came in.

 

“I’m sure, Ben.”

 

He breathes out a long breath.

 

After quickly changing gloves again (he sweated through the last pair; damn the effect she has on him), he rips open an antiseptic wipe and works it across and over her thigh. Rey reacts slightly to the cold of the wipe on her skin, every sensation a bit amplified in her state of anticipation (arousal?).

 

He positions the stencil he’s already printed of her design on her thigh.

 

“Is this where you want it?”

 

She glances down.

 

“Higher.”

 

He moves it up accordingly.

 

“No, higher.”

 

He swallows, thickly, before moving it up until she nods.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. _Right there_.”

 

* * *

 

The stencil, stark purple against the gold of her skin, stands out. It’s a beautiful design, he thinks, and he’s glad he’s the one who gets to tattoo it on her.

 

“Ready?”

 

Rey breathes out a breath, nervous with anticipation, but nods.

 

The sound of the machine is louder than she expected and the noise is quite nerve-wracking. She tries to control her racing heart.

 

Ben smoothes a gloved hand over the curve of her ass, soothing her.

 

“Okay, I’m going to start now, Rey.”

 

She nods, biting at her lip as her eyes automatically close in anticipation of the pain to follow his words.

 

He lowers the tip to her skin.

 

Her eyes blink open in surprise.

 

It’s not as horrible as she’d been expecting. In fact, she could probably ignore it quite easily if it weren’t for how odd the vibration feels, and the dragging sensation.

 

He keeps a reassuring hand stroking at the fleshy part where her thigh meets her ass, while his other hand works its magic. The hand on her butt switches between reassuring stroking and occasionally wiping at the tattoo.

 

“Doing okay?” he asks over the noise, and she murmurs her agreement.

 

He strokes again in response.

 

Rey’s insides go molten at his touch, so sweet and reassuring. Against better judgment, she feels wetness seep at the crotch of her panties. ‘ _What an inconvenient time to be aroused_ ’, she thinks, blushing faintly.

 

Ben doesn’t seem to notice though, intent on his work and as professional as ever.

 

But as his hand keeps reassuringly smoothing down over the curve of her ass again, wiping at the tattoo, then moving back again, she grows even wetter. Somehow the little pinpricks of irritable discomfort are now overwhelmed by her thrill in this heightened state of pain vs. pleasure.

 

She remains still as a statue despite the rapidly growing wet spot in her panties.

 

What is  _ **wrong**_ with her?

 

Finally, after a good amount of time, Ben removes the needle from her skin, switching off the machine.

 

“Giving you a breather,” he tells her, wiping again at the ink at her skin. “How are you doing?”

 

Rey, cheeks flushed and slightly sweaty, can only nod.

 

He looks perplexed at the state of her. “We can stop if you need to-”

 

“No,” Rey croaks out, shaking her head adamantly now. _God no._

 

“You look-”

 

He pauses as Rey shifts slightly, rubs her thighs together. The scent of her arousal fills the air. Realization slowly dawns in his eyes, and a dirty half-smirk pulls at his red lips.

 

“Does me tattooing you _turn you on_ , Rey?”

 

She gives a little moan of embarrassment, burying her face in her elbow.

 

He chuckles as he switches out his gloves again.

 

“It’s okay. You’re not the only one.”

 

She peeks out at him at his words, eyes curious but cheeks burning.

 

“Oh yeah. Guys have gotten boners before with me tatting them. It’s sometimes just the body’s natural response. They’re so embarrassed though, so quick to assure me they’re _not_ _gay_. It’s honestly hilarious.”

 

Rey finally quirks a smile, and he leans down to capture her lips in a quick kiss.

 

“Ready to go again?”

 

She nods, and they continue on.

 

* * *

 

 An hour later, they are the only two left in the shop, and Ben's staring at his finished work.

 

It’s turned out even more beautiful than he’s expected, delicate and simple, yet breathtaking. Rey’s beaming from ear to ear as she stares down at it.

 

“Ben, it’s beautiful. I _love_ it.”

 

Her voice chokes a bit and he’s surprised to see tears spring to her eyes.

 

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling off his gloves to gently cup her face in his hands.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rey laughs out, shaking her head. “This...Ben, you have no idea how much this _means_ to me.”

 

He brushes her cheekbones with his thumbs, before capturing her mouth in a reassuring kiss. “I have some idea,” he says then, with a smile that’s unexpectedly gentle.

 

“I’m a horny, emotional mess,” Rey mutters with a small laugh.

 

“Hey, I’m not complaining.”

 

Rey smacks him lightly, but watches as he puts new gloves on again, cleans up the skin, and then proceeds to lightly wrap her thigh up. The skin is tender, a bit bloody, but nothing she can’t handle. She’s actually surprised at how little it hurt.

 

Now she’s tempted to get another.

 

He cleans up the tray, wiping it down and putting away the equipment with practiced ease. The gloves come off next, and then he’s leveling a serious gaze on her.

 

“Okay. You need to take it easy the next few days,. The bandage can come off in three to six hours, and when it does, you can clean it with some soap and warm water. Then apply this.” He hands her a black and red aesthetic-looking tube of lotion emblazoned with the First Order tattoos symbol.

 

“This is a smaller tattoo, but just to be safe: no strenuous exercise, no laying down on your tattoo like on your side or on your front-”

 

The words are out of her mouth before she realises exactly what she’s saying.

 

“Are you going to keep me on my back, then?”

 

He pauses, dark eyes sparking, _burning_. He gives her such a long stare with those eyes, before he tilts her head back with his fingers beneath her chin, a sinful smile working at his lips.

 

“I should tattoo you more often, if you’re _this_ eager afterward.”

 

Rey smiles rather coquettishly in response, widening her legs on the chair.

 

An invitation. A _demand_.

 

His gaze automatically flickers to the white lace covering her slick center, made slightly transparent from her arousal.

 

“This doesn’t usually come with the tattoo package,” Ben murmurs, but then he’s kneeling in front of the chair and pulling her towards him by hooking his hands beneath her bum. He gingerly places her legs over his shoulders, making sure to keep a good distance from her tattoo, though it graces her outer thigh.

 

She’s already panting, looking down at him pushing aside her panties from where she’s propped up on her elbows.

 

“Scream if you need to,” he says with a smirk, but before she can respond, he’s lowering his head and that wicked tongue of his is on her.

 

She almost immediately arches, and he presses one large hand against her lower abdomen to keep her still.

 

His mouth, his tongue...the closest word she can grasp at in her haze is _perfection_ . She could get used to this...to him eating her out like she’s some type of all-you-can-eat buffet. He seems to find the act of pleasuring _her_ more pleasurable than anything else they’ve tried (and though they’ve only really been together for a week, they’ve tried a lot). From the backroom on her breaks to the First Order couches before Ben opens the shop, they’ve gone at it with all the vigor and ingenuity of sex-crazed teenagers.

 

His tongue curls inside her with a kind of otherworldly intuition of what she needs, like they’re connected - bonded - and she finds her familiar handhold in his obsidian waves, tugging, _pulling_ . Asking for more and simultaneously indicating it’s _too much_.

 

Sooner than she likes, she’s coming around his deft tongue, panting, flushed and sweaty. He keeps at it though, probably not content though she is _more_ than.

 

Gently, Rey pushes his head away from her. He looks up at her with slightly disappointed eyes, like some fucking puppy that didn’t get a treat.

 

“You’re impossible. How do you like _giving_ more than _receiving_?”

 

His lips twitch then, still shiny with her arousal.

 

“I’m a selfless person, what can I say?”

 

Rey smirks, lounging as she is on the tattooing chair, legs spread wide like some obscene Playboy magazine or something.

 

“But there’s still a matter of my payment,” Rey murmurs, looking up at him with too-innocent eyes as she begins to unbutton his pants. His breath comes more sharply at the mere sight.

 

The minute her pretty pink lips wrap around his cock, he knows he’s a goner.

 

It takes all his self-control not to come immediately in her velvet mouth, for him to hold out. Each bob of her head, caressing graze of her tongue, and gurgle has his head spinning. He holds out for as long as he can with his cock down her throat - her hands squeezing at his thighs as she gazes up at him with tawny eyes and a mouth that’s just a bit too amused around his member.

 

He comes with a low growl, hands buried in her hair this time, her buns disheveled around his eager handhold. She swallows eagerly, lapping him up til the last drop - his spent cock still somehow manages to twitch in response to the image before him.

 

And what an image it is.

 

Her lips, slick and pouty, slightly parted as she tries to catch her breath. Hair mussed, eyes hungry still.

 

Fuck, she’s glorious. Like some type of goddamn goddess.

 

She presses a kiss to the head of him so innocently that it’s a blatant mockery of the carnal act that just occurred. She folds him back into his pants too, before standing up from the chair.

 

“ _Careful-_ ”

 

She gives him an amused but soft grin, patting his hand comfortingly at his concern.

 

“I’m fine. It was just a tattoo, not surgery.”

 

His response is to shake his head at her. “You could’ve been lightheaded,” he mutters.

 

Pulling him down for a kiss, she nuzzles her nose into the side of his neck as best she can from her height.

 

“Yeah, but only from the mindblowing orgasm you just gave me.”

 

He chuckles against her head, into her soft hair that smells faintly of gardenias. He vaguely wonders if it’s perfume or from her working with the actual flowers.

 

She gently pulls away to make her way towards her jeans. She walks rather stiffly, and it's difficult for her to work her jeans on as her thigh has already begun to swell some, tender beneath the wrapping. Though she tries to conceal it, he can tell.

 

Once she’s fully buttoned her jeans, he sweeps her up in a bridal carry, causing her to let out a slight squeak of surprise.

  
  
“What are you doing?” she grumbles with a slight smile, casting him a look.

 

“I’m going to carry you around until your leg is better.”

 

Rey immediately rolls her eyes and pushes at his chest. “I don’t need you to carry me. I’m perfectly capable of walking, you prick.”

 

Ben cradles her closer, unwilling to let go.

 

“Nope, I’m gonna carry you to the car and then we’re gonna drive back to your house and then I’m gonna carry you inside.”

 

He smiled down at her, almost asking for her amused annoyance.

 

“You will do no such thing-”

  
  
He silences her with a kiss, which she finds herself grudgingly returning. He teasingly moves away again, but just enough so that his lips still brush her ear as he speaks.

 

“And then you’re going to be on mandatory bed rest for the rest of the weekend.”

 

His words send a low thrill through her, igniting that molten fire in the pit of her stomach once more. She vaguely wonders if this crazed libido he causes her to have will ever fade. She wouldn’t necessarily be angry if it didn’t.

 

“I can’t leave the bed?” she murmurs, raising an eyebrow at his audacity.

 

He chuckles as he carries her out of the room.

 

“You won’t want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Baby's Breath Flower Meaning: Innocence, Purity, Untouched}
> 
>  
> 
> Leave a comment guessing why you think this chapter is entitled Baby's Breath, besides the obvious reason that Rey gets a tattoo of baby's breath. ;)
> 
> Fun fact: A lot of people react to tattoos as they would to pleasurable stimulation. The body goes into an almost state of shock and copes with the pain in this way :) I did my psychology thesis on it and similar coping methods. I’d say it’s a pretty damn good way to go, as far as pain vs pleasure goes haha.


	11. Alstroemeria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long for an update. My dorm got flooded and then midterms came with a vengeance, and life and a bit of a lack of creativity hit a bit hard between all that. Enjoy.
> 
> SLIGHTLY VAGUE MENTIONS OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. See them in Bold

((SLIGHTLY VAGUE MENTIONS OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. See them in **Bold))**

 

Rey is a horrible cook.

 

A girl who thinks that ketchup on mac and cheese is a delicacy and whose smoke detector would go off more times than he could count if she actually bothered to put batteries in it is one who is in dire need of his help. No matter how much she protests.

 

So that’s how they find themselves on a lazy Saturday afternoon: preparing bacon, jack, and jalapeño quesadillas.

 

Rey had already managed to squirt jalapeño juice in her eye and lightly burn herself on the pan. Ben vaguely wondered how she had managed to survive till now.

 

“Rey-no, don’t _hack_ at it.”

 

She huffs annoyedly as she stands over the bacon, trying to cut it into pieces. Instead, she’s sort of sawing at it much too aggressively with the knife, trying to imitate those chefs she saw on TV dicing stuff.

 

She brandishes the knife at him with vigour. “Why don’t you do it then, Mr. Perfect? Apparently, I can’t cook worth shit.”

 

Chuckling slightly, Ben wipes his hands off on a towel and comes up behind her.

 

“We’re going to have to Rom-Com this shit,” he murmurs as he takes position behind her, his arms coming around to grip her hands in place.

 

Slowly, he has her slice the bacon into neat, even pieces.

 

“Slow, steady strokes,” he mutters, snickering slightly as he says it.

 

“You’re disgusting,” Rey replies to his innuendo, elbowing him in his stomach as she resumes cutting the bacon as he showed her.

 

“But you like it,” he grins out, smirking as he resumes his position in front of the flat pan and flips the quesadilla laid out on it.

 

Rey, muttering to herself, resumes cutting the bacon, creating a steady pile on the cutting board which she had never used except as a stable surface for her potted plants.

 

“This seems like a lot of work for two measly quesadillas.”

 

Ben chuckles, shaking his head.

 

“It’ll go faster the more you practice. Besides, based on your taste in frozen meals and fast food, I’d wager that these ‘measly quesadillas’ will easily be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

 

Rey flips him off, finally finishing with the bacon.

 

“It’s not like I had a mom to cook me homemade meals and kiss my forehead as she tucked me into bed at night,” she grumbles, and though she means it as a half-hearted joke, he freezes.

 

He hadn’t remembered her background- _Fuck_ , he’s such an _asshole_.

 

“Shit, Rey. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot-”

 

She shakes her head, bringing the bacon over and pressing a finger to his lips.

 

“It’s fine. I’m not sensitive about it. It was pretty shitty, yeah, but I ended up alright I think. I’m honestly grateful it wasn’t _worse_.”

 

He grabs her finger still on his lips, turns his head and presses a kiss to her open palm lightly.

 

“You turned out more than alright, Rey. You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

 

She flushes a light shade of pink, trying to pull her hand away, to no avail.

 

“I mean it,” he stresses, pulling her slightly closer. “You can get even the toughest of flowers to grow and you can do all this amazing car work and though you can’t cook _yet_ , you can cut some mean bacon.”

 

She chuckles, though his words touched her deeper than she’ll let on.

 

“Well, teach me how to cook then.”

 

He smiles, and they begin to build the quesadillas, Ben instructing her all the way.

 

She could get used to this, she thinks, just before she burns herself on the pan again.

 

“ _FUCK_!”

 

\- - -

 

It comes up again later - those pesky pasts - after their stomachs are satiated and their tongues burning from the quesadillas. (Though Rey wouldn’t admit it to him, it _is_ probably the best thing she’s ever tasted.)

 

“Will you tell me more about your childhood?” she asks him, curious now; images of a doting Leia and a stern but loving Han swimming about her head.

 

Ben’s thumb stutters almost imperceptibly against the small of her back, curled up as she is against him on her couch, pretending to watch whatever it is that’s playing on Netflix.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

She thinks for a moment, before gazing up at him.

 

“What was it like having Leia as a mother? I imagine it’d be pretty great.”

 

He winces. Visibly. Rey is surprised.

 

“You don’t have to-”

 

“She wasn’t a good mom,” he interrupts her, eyes dark and brow furrowed. Not in anger but something deeper,  more melancholy. Regret, perhaps. Either way, it speaks volumes.

 

“She was a politician and I was a politician’s son who wasn’t cute or striking or good on camera. So she left me at home - since I was six. Han was supposed to be there but he was out doing illegal auto shop stuff all the time.”

 

He shook his head, and Rey could almost see a small Ben Solo sitting alone at home, missing his mother and father.

 

“They always fought over it,” he continues, “how she was supposed to uphold the law and how he broke it by stealing and stripping cars for parts and then reselling them. It was always behind closed doors, but I could hear it. They were never quiet people…… so I could never sleep.”

 

It’s veritable word-vomit, words bottled up for so long that they spring forth like a too-shaken bottle of soda, fizzing out. He chuckles drily and humorlessly.

 

“My lullaby as a kid was the sound of breaking glass and slamming doors.”

 

She sits up, crossed-legged in his lap, facing him. She can see the complete spectrum of emotions that overwhelm his features. He’s incapable of repressing them, each one clear-as-day on his expressive face.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Rey asks the question that’s been buzzing in her mind.

 

“But they seem so happy now? Fifty years of marriage and they’re getting their vows renewed…”

 

He stares moodily at the TV, not really processing the images that flicker across the screen.

 

“Guess it took me leaving to bring them closer.”

 

Rey grips his bicep in a tight grip, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Ben Solo, you know for a fact that’s not true. Your mother misses you so much she keeps the shower stocked with your shampoo and conditioner.”

 

His eyes flick momentarily to hers, gauging the truth of her statement. His face hardens nonetheless as he reads the glittering verity of her statement in that serious gaze of hers.

 

“That might be so, but my father hates me, and as soon as I were to reconcile with them, they’d inevitably start fighting all over again.”

 

Rey realises then, with a stunning sort of clarity, that Ben believed _he_ was the cause of his parents’ fights. Despite illegal jobs or political aspirations, Ben had made himself the scapegoat of his parents’ troubles.

 

Which also meant he was staying away from them in order to _help_ them, or so he thought in his own twisted sort-of-way.

 

Selfless to the end.

 

“Anyways, I raised myself.” He shrugs lightly, not meeting her concerned gaze. “S’probably why I’m so fucked up.”

 

Rey furrows her brow, so much wrong with this conversation, her hands grabbing his though they are gigantic in her own. She half-heartedly plays with his fingers.

 

“What do you mean ‘fucked up’ Ben?”

 

He still won’t meet her gaze, and she notices that his hands flex in her own, trying to curl into fists.

 

“I mean ‘incapable of loving other people, terrified of abandonment’ Ben Solo’. Kylo Ren was an escape from all that - for a time. Now it seems I’m a fucked up mess of a human being no matter who I am.”

 

Rey breathes out a slow breath, trying to figure out what to say. They sit in silence for a while as she tries to find the words. Finally-

 

“When I was ten, I told myself that I’d never love another person. I saw what it did to kids taken away from their foster families, to siblings separated by the system. But then I met Finn and Poe...and I kind of broke that promise. And I haven’t regretted it once since.”

  
She strokes his hand reassuringly.

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I used to feel that way too. Scared of opening up to people - of feeling any type of love for them. It’s really really hard for me to open up - I have abandonment issues that run deep and strong. But I think I’m _beginning_ to overcome that fear, slowly but surely.”

 

He hears the unspoken words. Hears them and feels a spike of panic.

 

_Because of you._

 

He doesn’t say anything in response, just sits there uncomfortably stiff.  Rey doesn’t push, doesn’t demand anything of him. She will give him time. (But she won’t wait forever)

 

Instead, she pokes at his mouth with her fingers, pulling up the corners into a smile.

 

“I’m sorry I brought this up. I don’t like it when you frown.”

 

His lips twitch slightly, and he finally meets her gaze.

 

His eyes are a beautiful brown - like fresh soil that gives birth to green sprouts. They speak of life and warmth and home. She faintly recalls herself once thinking that such kind eyes didn’t belong on a man such as him. She wished she knew then what she did now.

 

“How’s your leg doing?”

 

His eyes flicker down to where her leg is slightly elevated on a pillow. Clad in the shortest pair of shorts she owns, her upper thigh is visible, wrapped ever-so-lightly in fresh bandages.

 

“It’s still weeping slightly,” she mutters, making a ‘bleh’ face as she flicks lightly at the edge of her bandage.

 

Ben chuckles, swiping his thumb near the edge of the bandage in reassurance and stopping her picking at it.

 

“That’s normal. Soon it’ll scab over and then you’ll be healed.”

 

She hums in agreement, turning back around and leaning against his chest. She’s so small compared to him that she fits perfectly under his chin, his muscled arms wrapping around her comfortingly. Like her own personal safety blanket.

 

“Why baby’s breath?” Ben asks after a while, Rey having been dozing off between watching the TV. Rey mutters a sleepy “hmm?” and Ben repeats his question for her.

 

“Oh,” she clears her throat, sitting up a bit, though he won’t let her out of his arms. He tugs her closer, pressing a kiss beneath her ear that’s no heat and all comfort.

 

The physical reassurance allows her to tell him what she’s never told another person. That, and perhaps the fact that she can’t see his face.

 

“Um, when I was 16, I was in a really really bad foster situation. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but it was the worst time of my life. **I was depressed and constantly anxious and life held no real meaning.** ”

 

Ben’s arms tighten almost imperceptibly around her middle.

 

“ **Things were really bad one day and I was going to do something bad.** But then I saw a display of baby’s breath in a shop window.”

 

Her breath is shaky, but her hands aren’t.

 

“It was just a single cluster, fresh and dewy. But the way the light hit it...it was one the most beautiful things I’d ever seen at that point in my life.”

 

She reminds herself to breathe in and out. Slowly. 1...2...3…

 

“And I realised that if something that beautiful could exist in the world, even for the briefest instant, that there was something to look forward to. One day my life would be beautiful too, and everything I felt in that moment would simply be a shadowy memory.”

 

Ben is quiet behind her, and she realises he’s stopped breathing momentarily. The breath releases quite suddenly from him, sounding remarkably like a decompressing tire to Rey’s mechanic ears.

 

“I’m...I don’t really know how to respond to that, Rey.”

 

Rey shakes her head.

 

“It’s okay. I know it’s heavy stuff. But I’ve never been able to get that baby’s breath out of my head, so I think it was always sort of meant to be a part of me. And now it is.”

 

She gives his hand a squeeze.

 

“Thanks to you.”

 

Ben returns her hand squeeze, his response to comforting her being to pull her closer and nuzzle the top of her head.

 

“Thank you for telling me that. I’m...you don’t know how sorry I am you had to go through that. But you’re so strong, and I think you might be the something beautiful that’s in my life.”

 

Rey is torn between laughing and crying at his words. She settles for a wet chuckle.

 

“What a sweet-talker you are, Ben Solo. You must take after your dad after all.”

 

“No I don’t,” he’s quick to grumble, and Rey smiles at how much it ironically sounds like Han.

 

“You should talk to him. You both miss each other and you’re being ‘stubborn asses’ as Leia would say.”

 

Ben stiffens again against her and Rey huffs annoyedly.   


“It’s gonna happen one day. Might as well be before the wedding so that you can walk Leia down the aisle without glaring at him up on the altar.”

 

Ben mutters something Rey can’t catch and she pinches his arm.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing, god.”

 

“I’m Rey, not God.”

 

He winces. “That was a really bad one.”

 

Rey snorts and pats his arm. “You’ll adjust to them.” At the idea of adjusting - of being together long enough that something became routine, became _normal_ \- Ben again shifts slightly, but Rey doesn’t comment.

 

“Speaking of talking to people, you should also really talk to Finn.”

 

Rey can’t see his face, but she _knows_ that his brown eyes are rolling.

 

“You cannot just go around hating each other. I won’t let you.”

 

“I don’t think it’s up to you-”

 

Another pinch.

 

“Jesus, Rey!”

 

“No, just Rey, not Jesus. And you have to talk to him, Ben. For me.”

 

There’s another mutter from behind her under his breath, and her fingers move to pinch him again when-

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to him. Jeez.”

 

Rey twists her head to kiss under his chin happily.

 

“Thank you, Ben.”

 

He rubs at his arm passive aggressively and Rey chuckles drily.

 

“You can handle tattoos but not pinches?”

 

There’s a low growl, and then he’s tickling her sides, pressing kisses all over her face and head from where he can reach.

 

“Fuck-no- _stop_!”

 

He doesn’t, and Rey is reduced to the lowest state a human being can be as she hiccups and gasps and cries all over the place.

 

But there’s a warm feeling in her stomach that has nothing to do with how her abs ache from laughing and everything to do with her fellow company.

 

\- - - -

 

It’s 4 AM three weeks later when Rey first notices it.

 

Ben had taken to staying at her place and driving them both to work the next day. They’d established a routine (but if Rey said the word “routine” Ben would no doubt get all stiff and awkward). Wake up, go to work, eat lunch together, (make out like teenagers somewhere in there) more work, then come home and cook dinner together, go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

 

But that’s not what has her momentarily unsure how to feel.

 

It’s the fact that, as she comes back from the bathroom to crawl into bed, Ben is curled up on his side. He’s curled up around a lack of space - spooning where she would normally be. Naturally concaving himself around where her body rests against his every night.

 

It’s a simple sight, something that most people wouldn’t realise the implications of. But Rey does.

 

He’s begun to sleep like there’s two of them, even alone. His arm stretched out across the space like he knows subconsciously that she’s missing from his side.

 

Rey’s breath catches in her throat, and she feels a painful ache hollow out her chest.

 

She’s not even sure what it is she’s feeling - it’s nameless; a sweet melancholy that is tinged with a suffocating anxiety for what their relationship is morphing into….

 

If she put stock in that sort of thing, Rey would visit a psychic and ask about her future - _their_ future. But she was a cynical nonbeliever and that wasn’t about to change.

 

What she _does_ know now is that she won’t be able to sleep the rest of the night. So she finds herself nabbing Ben’s keys from the bedside table. A quick scribble: _Went out for a drive. Be back soon!_ Then she’s out the door and breathing in the smell of cold air and starlight.

 

She drives for who knows how long, basking in the quiet darkness, thinking to herself.

  
When she next looks, she’s only vaguely surprised to find herself in front of Leia’s wedding shop. The lights are on full blast, the only shop open on the stretch of road that boasts other expensive boutiques and shops.

 

She finds herself knocking on the glossy white door with 327 hung in gold, and soon enough Leia is ushering her inside. No questions are asked.

 

Rey’s armed with a cup of tea automatically and then given the task of sealing envelopes alongside Leia on the soft white couch. Everything inside is spotless as usual, gleaming silver and rose and white underneath the crystal chandeliers. Yet it is at the same time comforting.

 

“I’m assuming this is about my son and not the delivery of Sachi blossoms that are due today,” Leia begins after a while, placing a new stack of unsealed envelopes down for Rey to start on.

 

Rey breathes out a sigh, starting the new stack. She’s sure Leia knows they are dating, even though neither of them had expressly told her. In fact, she suspects she has Leia to thank for that….

 

“I have so many attachment issues and I’m just starting to overcome them. But I don’t think he’s at the same level and I’m scared to scare him off. Also, I don’t even bloody know what I’m feeling right now.”

 

Leia nods, face serious as she tucks another invitation inside the gilded envelope.

 

“Feelings are tricky things. They’re more finicky than the wind, and they’re about as stable as a house of cards. But emotions...those are different things altogether.”

 

Rey shakes her head, not understanding.

 

“Aren’t they just the same thing?”

 

Leia shakes her head. “I thought so once too, but no. A crush is a feeling - but when it turns into an emotion it becomes love. There’s a difference.”

 

“Well, expressing either one seems to be off-limits with Ben. I can’t even say ‘you’ll get used to it’ without him locking up.”

 

Leia lifts her gaze to meet Rey’s for about the first time.

 

“He lets you call him Ben?”

 

There is a shimmer of something - hope maybe, mixed with longing - in her gaze.

 

Rey nods slowly and silently, envelopes forgotten.

 

Leia’s hands find hers.

 

“Rey, my son has always been something of an outsider. Play dates were disasters and middle school was perhaps the toughest time-” She shakes her head. “I wasn’t there for him when I should’ve been...motherhood should have come _first_ , but I was selfish and naive and much too expectant. I made a mess of his childhood, though I suspect you already know that. It’s my worst regret.”

 

A squeeze of Leia’s hands, warm and comforting.

 

“But he’s found friends in the people from that tattoo parlor, and for that I’m extremely grateful. And he’s found something in you, as unlabeled as it is right now. Don’t discount that so quickly.”

 

Leia smiles a smile that’s slightly mischievous.

 

“Would you believe I had ulterior motives with you two? I’m sure you’ve already suspected - you’re a smart girl.”

 

Rey’s mouth twitches despite the situation.

 

“Anyways, I think maybe he needs a good scare. It might wake him up, show him what he stands to become if he continues down this path of not letting anyone in and holding onto hate.”

 

Rey doesn’t like the ambiguity of that statement, the possibility that it could all go wrong. It causes her heart to flutter and her hands to sweat. But Leia’s there, strong and warm and so mother-like it brings an ache to her eyes and throat.

 

“I really do believe that everything will work out in the end, Rey. I have _hope_.”

 

Rey nods slowly, peering down at their entwined hands, one old and smooth and the other young and calloused.

 

“Alright.”

 

Rey takes a deep breath.

 

“I’ll tell him.”

 

Leia knows exactly what she means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alstroemeria - Devotion; Learning about another; Looking to the future


	12. Yellow Carnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> British flower girl gets a new tattoo and finally goes to the raging emo honeypots' home -- Poe and Finn lowkey throw shade at the star wars movies through a subtle breaking of the fourth wall :P

It’s that same day in which Rey talked to Leia that Rey brings up the idea. Ben is tattooing another flower piece on her collarbone when she voices her question.

 

“What if you showed me your place today?”

 

Ben pauses mid-line, hand hovering above her chest, needle still vibrating with a vengeance. He recovers quickly however, setting the machine down on the side tray.

 

“You know you’re not supposed to surprise tattoo artists? Especially when they’re in the process of giving you your tattoo…”

 

Rey chuckles softly, rolling her eyes nonetheless. “Let me see your place. I want to snoop in your kitchen cabinets and see your underwear drawer,” Rey jokes as she lounges on the tattooing chair.

 

Ben shakes his head, a smile flickering at his own lips. “Are you my girlfriend or my stalker?”

 

“Why not both? Everyone needs a hobby.”

 

Ben picks the machine back up, flipping it on again as Rey settles back into the chair, her eyes closing automatically.

 

The tattoo hurts a bit more than her last two did (the first one on her thigh of the baby’s breath and the second one of a delicate daisy chain on the soft flesh of her forearm) yet this one is just as delicate and just as beautiful.

 

Two delicate sprigs of lavender, twin clusters resting in the hollows of both her collarbones.

 

Poe had deemed her current state as “tattoo crazy”, claiming she was “channeling the sexual desire she felt for Kylo through getting tattoos from him”. While that was crazy (typical Poe), Rey did agree that she was currently obsessed with getting tattoos.

 

However, this phenomena was not totally due to Ben, but was, in fact, a realisation that Rey could carry a garden with her wherever she went - tattooed in delicate, hair-thin strokes on her own skin.

 

The idea of always having flowers with her - on her - made her feel incandescently happy. A private garden for her and her alone, the company of their delicate forms and bold colours constantly reminding her of the dignified strength and secret beauty of the world.

 

Having Ben craft her garden, piece by piece, flower by flower, was a gift Rey was incredibly thankful for. Sharing those intimate moments where there were only the blossoming of ink against skin, their dual breaths, and the buzz of the tattooing machine…it made her growing garden all the more special.

 

As if sensing her thoughts, Ben’s unoccupied left thumb swipes against her palm. She smiles at the love-touch though her eyes are still closed.

 

It’s only a little bit later that Ben finally switches off the machine and sits back, beginning the end stages of the tattooing process. As soon as she’s gauzed and taped, she sits up and faces him again.

 

“So?” she prompts, swinging her feet off the chair like a kid as she awaits his answer. Though her face is the image of gentle content and slight amusement, on the insides her stomach is twisted in more knots than a Bavarian pretzel.

 

Ben strips off his gloves and throws them in the trash, before swooping down to capture her lips in a kiss.

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s all he says, that one word of affirmation, but to Rey, it’s all he really has to say.

 

* * *

 

“-and then BB would just follow me all over the place, making all these high-pitched barks that honestly sounded like little beeps. Like a loyal little droid or something.”

 

Rey chuckles as she recalls the small orange and white corgi waddling after her, demanding her attention. She’d eventually caved and fell in love with him as much as Poe and Finn were annoyingly enamored with the ball of fluff.

 

A dog dedicated to being loved and at the center of attention. Much like his owners…

 

Ben shakes his head, chuckling too as he pictured the scene of a stiff-upper-lipped Rey trying to resist the puppy’s obvious cuteness. “He has more charm than his owner, that’s for sure.”

 

“Hey!”

 

A cardboard takeout box flies through the air, aimed right for Ben’s face, but he ducks it with considerable ease.

 

“Don’t throw stuff in my apartment, or I’ll disinvite you,” Ben smirks at Poe, lounging with Rey curled up into his side on the black leather loveseat.

 

“Good luck with that,” Rey laughs out. “Once he’s allowed in, it’s difficult getting him to leave. He thinks he owns the place. Like a cat…or rats.”

 

Poe makes a disgruntled, shocked noise around his lo mein, angrily slurping up the rest of the noodles and probably just about to launch into an angry spiel about his worth to them.

 

“How’s your coconut curry chicken, Finn?” Rey interrupts instead, leaning over to stab a piece on her fork.

 

“Quickly disappearing,” Finn grumbles, shooting first Rey then Poe looks of annoyance.

 

“Like magic,” Rey manages around her chicken, grossly showing everyone the half-chewed bite in her mouth.

 

“Ugh, still no considerable table manners,” Poe groans, accompanied by a jokingly disgusted look from Finn. “Like a rabid wolf or some savage wildling.”

 

Ben laughs, knowing too well the horrific experience that was Rey consuming food. It earns him a hit to the chest by said consumer.

 

Unbothered by their criticisms, Rey sticks out her tongue, debuting even more of the chewed green mess, making all three men cringe.

 

“Laugh it up, boys. Laugh it up. It can only get worse for you.”

 

They lapse into a comfortable silence once more, each chewing their own meal from a differing cuisine as none could agree on what they wanted to eat. Rey had already finished her personal pizza, so she’d moved on to six pieces of Ben’s sushi, and both of Poe’s egg rolls. She was currently eyeing up Finn’s naan bread in such a way that he’d moved it to his other side to discourage her scavenging.

 

Though Rey was only almost full, she was entirely happy. She was finally at Ben’s apartment, he’d invited her two best friends to eat dinner with them (and it wasn’t tense or uncomfortably awkward), and she had her new collarbone tattoos.

 

She squeezes Ben’s hand with her own, eyes flickering occasionally to the screen to where an old sci-fi movie played. She wasn’t too interested in it, but she vaguely knew of the villain who wore all black and was famous for his odd breathing pattern due to a respirator, as well as the spitfire princess who led the spaceship legions against the bad guys.

 

“This is a lame movie,” Poe comments in between forkfuls of sticky rice.

 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Completely unbelievable. Plus the villain’s irredeemable. There’s no redemption arc for that one.”

 

Ben sniffs a bit beside Rey in a way that means a retort is coming. “I mean, he’s not completely irredeemable. Besides, it’s not the good guys that need redemption arcs - that’s the whole point.”

 

Finn rolls his eyes, mouth a hard line. “ _Of course_ you’d idolise the villain.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben snaps while sitting up straighter, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Guys!” Rey interjects, soothing the bit of tension that had spiked up. Grumbling slightly, the guys settled back down to half-heartedly watch again.

 

“The only good character’s the princess. She actually does stuff,” Poe mumbles, earning a cross look from Rey for bringing the subject back up though she silently agrees with him.

 

Once the credits had begun to roll, Poe and Finn decide to head out, hugging Rey and awkwardly waving bye to Ben after thanking him for inviting them.

 

It might’ve been awkward, but to Rey, at least, it was a start.

 

“Well, that was nice,” Rey comments, dumping the takeout containers into the trash and recycling respectively.

 

“That’s one word for it,” Ben grumbles in response, also helping clean up the rest of the mess.

 

“Oh, stop acting like some sexy emo honeypot. It was nice, admit it.”

 

Ben sighs, but his frown lessens and the crease between his brow smooths out. “Fine. It might not have been the worst thing in the world.”

  
Rolling her eyes, she comes up behind him to hug his middle. “Such a flair for the dramatic. You should’ve been an actor in another life.”

 

Ben chuckles, but gently tugs her around to face him. “No pressure on your chest, remember?”

 

Rey smirks at his words, winking up at him. “Oooh, tell me again, doctor.”

 

He chuckles, pulling her closer to him with his giant hands on her hips.

 

“No pressure around here,” he murmurs into her ear, tracing around the edges of her gauze through her t-shirt with care. Actually, it was his band shirt that she was wearing but she’d essentially claimed it as her own by now.

 

“And everywhere else?” Rey breathes, equal parts amused and turned on.

 

“Hmm, I suppose you just have to be careful,” he muses, thumbs tracing over her pebbled nipples through her lace bralette and his t-shirt.

 

“I’m in good hands,” Rey smirks, as Ben’s hands move to cup her breasts through her shirt, caressing lightly.

 

He leans down for a kiss, but it’s light - teasing.

 

“Don’t you want to see the apartment you’ve been nagging me about?”

 

“Nagging?” Rey echoes indignantly. “I’m not nagging-”

 

But he’s chuckling and tugging her through the living room back to the front door.

 

After a cute but annoying roleplaying scenario where she had to knock on his front door and wait for him to answer it, Ben finally began to show her his apartment.

 

Located not far from the First Order Tattoos and Dear Daisy, it was on a nice part of town. The apartment building was clean and modern, with a door man at the front and everything. This meant that the interior of his apartment was much nicer than Rey was originally expecting, all white, chrome, and black with occasional splashes of blue.

 

“This is the foyer and living room,” Ben explains, gesturing broadly at the open space he indicated. They walk further, until they cross into the connected area to the living room. “And this is the kitchen-”

 

Immediately, Rey brushes past him to open all his cabinets and look inside.

 

“Hmm…” she muses, a look of mock concern on her face, before she opens the fridge to peek inside that too.

 

“You weren’t joking about going through my cabinets, huh?”

 

Rey shakes her head, looking placated somehow. “Neither about the underwear drawer.”

 

The resulting look on Ben’s face makes her have to stifle a giggle. 

 

“Continuing on,” Ben says, ushering her towards an adjoining room.

 

“This is the office slash workout room slash place where I put all my shit.”

  
  
“Ah, so we all have one of those rooms.”

 

A light chuckle and a squeeze of her hand.

 

“And this is my bedroom - my underwear drawer is right over there.”

 

Though he tries to hide it, there are notes of anxiety in his voice. He uses the joke to try to ease his own anxiety more than amuse Rey, pointing to his walk in closet in the process.

 

Rey surveys the land of black silk sheets. The one wall made entirely of glass - a window, really. The lack of any personal photos or _inhabitation_ , really.

 

“I mean, it’s nice, but there’s not one goddamn plant in this whole entire apartment,” Rey complains instead, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

 

Ben breathes out an almost silent sigh of relief, the knot in his chest easing at her words. Of course Rey would be concerned at his lack of plants.

 

“I don’t even know how to keep a plant alive, Rey. Getting plants here would just mean that there would be dead plants everywhere.”

 

“But if I was here more often, I could care for them. And teach you too.”

 

Ben pauses, shocked by her suggestion. His throat starts to constrict, his heartbeat elevating. “I-I’m not ready for you to move in-” he manages to choke out.

 

She interrupts him. 

 

“Oh no. No no no, Ben. I just meant visiting more often now that I’ve seen your place. Not moving in.”

 

Ben’s chest almost  immediately relaxes, his heartbeat steadying again as he stares down at Rey with a bit less-panicked eyes.

 

“So, what do you say? Some Aloe or some Philodendron plants, maybe?”

 

Ben finally smiles. “Sure, as long as you can take care of them.” “Teach you how to take care of them,” Rey corrects. “Teach me how to take care of them,” Ben agrees with her, shaking his head at this woman and her love of plants.

 

Content, Rey wraps her arms around Ben’s waist as best she can - he _is_ huge - and goes up on her tippy-toes for a kiss.

 

“Thank you for letting me breathe some life into your apartment,” she teases him, pecking him again on the lips.

 

“Mmm...I would be offended if I weren’t so turned on right now.”

 

Rey giggles as he begins to kiss down her neck in a playful manner, loving this side of Ben. The side reserved only for her.

 

“What do you think - should we break in my bed?”

 

Rey couldn’t agree more.

  

* * *

 

The next morning, Ben awakes to Rey nestled in the crook of his arm per usual, her rumbling snores a now familiar if annoying music to his ears.

 

 _I could get used to this_ , he thinks to himself, and immediately is wide awake in surprise.

 

He couldn’t usually think such thoughts without anxiety seizing up his throat, without his pulse ratcheting up until his heartbeat felt like a drum echoing within his chest and consuming his hearing.

 

Suddenly-

 

“Stop watching me sleep, you creep,” comes her sleep-grumbled greeting, distracting him from his anxious thoughts (something she seemed to do a lot).

 

“I can’t help it. You drooling all over my pillows turns me on.”

 

She slowly smiles, eyes still closed, before inevitably reaching up to wipe at the corners of her mouth to check if his statement had been true.

 

No drool.

 

“Asshole,” she mutters, turning over to blink open her eyes and look at him.

 

Even sleep-tousled, he’s still the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, bar nothing.

 

Her first night spent at Ben's home after weeks of dating - after almost three months of knowing one another. It’s a major step and the thought of it makes Rey’s heart jump. Somewhere along the way, _like_ had turned to _lust_ , and now….to something else. Something subtler, less heated and intense, but warm and comfortable.

 

Leia’s words echo in her head, subtle encouragement to do it, do it, _do it_. She takes a deep breath.

 

She’s ready. She’s going to say it.

 

Rey shifts onto an elbow, the honeyed sunlight streaming through the window caressing the curve of her cheekbones and making her hair shine like molten bronze and gold.

 

Ben’s breath catches in his throat, constricts.

 

She’s smiling up at him, beautiful and freckled and shining like his own little sun.

 

She looks _so_ happy.

 

She looks like she’s in love.

 

His stomach clenches at the thought, at her gaze and what he sees there. He reels back.

 

**_No-_ **

 

The words leave her pink lips before he can stop them - stop _her_.

 

“Ben...I love you.”

 

The words are a hushed utterance, soft and light. Like a poem - or a prayer.

 

Her eyes are locked with his, expectant and waiting for his response. Instead, she sees the exact moment when true panic hits his eyes. In an instant, he closes himself off from her, expression shuttering, those walls going up in record time.

 

She sits up quickly while clutching the sheet at her chest, sure that she’s wrong, that he’ll say it back to her.

 

But he’s shaking his head - won’t meet her gaze as he stands and moves off the bed.

 

“Rey-”

 

And at the utterance of her name, she feels her heart drop from her chest. Feels it torn out and ripped apart by his hands and presented back to her in bloody shreds.

 

The tone is like a doctor trying to explain a death to a family - kind yet clinical. Reserved. Detached.

 

She shifts away from him, shock and hurt painting her face in equal measure. His hands are running through his hair, clenching at it in fists, pulling at it until it _hurts_.

 

She can’t see how they shake, doesn’t understand that the reason it sounds like he has trouble breathing is because he _does_ \- it’s not just angry panting.

 

“Rey, god, I- Why can’t we just like what we have? Why do we have to throw words around like that?”

 

She snorts in derision and begins pulling on her clothes, piece by angry piece.

 

“What - fucking in back rooms? You slicking your dick with me? Getting off?” She shakes her head with a sour smile. “Yeah, that’s really fucking beautiful.”

 

The words fall from her lips, bitter and acidic, her tone painted red-hot and biting. His eyes shift from anguished to burning with barely-contained rage, heat flickering in the sable of his irises.

 

“So now you’re delegating yourself to just a fuck? Downgrading what’s between us? That’s rich,” he sneers.

 

“Well, isn’t that what this is? A fuck? There’s nothing more to it according to you, _Kylo_ ,” she spits, gesturing between them. 

 

His fist punches through the wall before she even has time to process the movement, plaster and drywall crumbling around the indent.

 

She’d used his name as a barb, a sharp weapon she knows will hurt more than anything else she could say. A veritable twist of the knife. It’s petty and cruel, but it feels good in the moment (though she’s sure she’ll come to regret it later).

 

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Rey?” He’s breathing heavily, livid and yet helpless. “Do you really want me to tell you that I don’t love you?”

 

Rey flinches as though he’s physically hit her. He might as well have.

 

He curses immediately, taking a step towards her. Unlike Rey earlier, he regrets the words as soon as he says them.

 

“Rey, I-”

 

But Rey shakes her head, a sort of quiet numbness settling over her.

 

“I won't let myself be in a relationship where my partner can't commit to me or where I'm not loved in return - I can't do that to myself after my childhood. You should understand that, Ben - better than anyone. I'm sorry, but I've come to love and appreciate myself too much to put myself in that position."

 

She gathers her stuff in silence as Ben watches, looking truly destroyed at her words. 

 

“You know, I talked to your mom about this. Even she thought you'd say it back,” Rey says suddenly, surprising herself. She ignores the way his mouth pops open in shock. "You have to let someone in sometime, Ben. Even if that someone’s not me. Otherwise you’ll end up more alone and in pain than you already are. Stop this petty fight with your Dad, and talk to your Mom. You have a family - stop taking that for granted. I never would.”

 

She turns towards the door, to leave and to conceal the shine of tears in her eyes that are inevitably going to fall.

 

“Have a nice life.”

 

“Rey, please-”

 

But Rey leaves - she does it for herself and her self-worth _,_ something she once wouldn't have been strong enough to do.

 

The song of shattering glass echoes behind her. It’s a symphony of pain and destruction that he conducts all on his own.

 

Rey tells herself she doesn’t care.

 

And as the front door slams shut, Ben realises that she’s _really_ gone - having left the scent of gardenias imprinted in his pillowcases, and half-bloomed flowers in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Yellow Carnation Flower Meaning: Rejection and Disdain}
> 
> Did anyone notice the foreshadowing I had back in chapter 9 with including the scene where Mr. Darcy leaves Elizabeth after her rejection? Anyone? 
> 
> Anywhoo, so so sorry this chapter has been so delayed but I wanted to finish school first and focus fully on my finals. Chapters will be regularly updated from here on out as most are already written and just need to be tweaked and arranged. Thank you, as always, for sticking with me and my story and for just generally being AMAZING readers and supporters. I love you all! <333


	13. Azalea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower tattoo addict is an unhungry mess. Trashcan fire is bad at taking care of himself (but what's new there). Deep conversations ensue + semi-cute bromance shit.

**“Rey, you’re scaring me. Please pick up.”**

* * *

  **“Rey, I know you’re there. We just want to know that you’re okay.”**

* * *

  **“Rey, please.”**

* * *

 The sounds of Finn and Poe’s concerned voices echo from her phone in the dark of her room, each voice message more and more urgent than the last. At some point, she hears the insistent ringing of her doorbell - _ding dong, ding dong_ \- over and over again. 

Rey turns over and, like Novocaine with an aching tooth, lets the numbing oblivion of sleep envelop her once more.

* * *

 Dream after dream encases her weary mind, diaphanous and ephemeral. Strings of dreams that fold and emerge and disappear like water slipping through hands or mist parting for a figure.

 

Some images she can remember - a black and silver helmet, a tattooed rose, sable eyes that weep bitter tears. Others are forgotten instantaneously, nothing more than fleeting moments, darting like little fish in the rippling pond of her subconscious.

 

Fever dreams, Poe would call them. Inescapable in their lunacy and startling realness.

 

Yet, throughout it all, Rey is aware of a striking pain deep within her, a heavy burden to bear. It is buried in her chest as if she replaced her stomach with a bowling ball, aching both sharply and dully somehow - like a clean cut and a bruise. It is a harsh reality amidst so many fantastical dreams.

 

When she’s half-awake, she knows why the pain is there - _Ben_. Other times she’s too asleep to know - only able to feel it, always present.

 

Sometimes she finds herself awake and nibbling on a cracker or drinking some water. But then, what feels like a second later, she is encased in a dream again.

 

Reality blurs. The vicious cycle continues. And every time she wakes, her cheeks are embarrassingly wet.

* * *

 Rey’s awoken by bright shafts of sunlight quite suddenly, her curtains being drawn across the window.

 

“It’s been almost a week, peanut.” Finn’s voice greets her from by the window.

 

She rolls over, pulling her pillow over her head as Finn sits on the edge of the bed. He tugs the pillow away from her, Rey growling all the while and trying to pull it back unsuccessfully.

 

“ _No_ ,” Finn orders, putting it farther away.

 

She scowls at him in response. She’s not in the mood for company.

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

He’s already shaking his head before she finishes.

 

“No can do, peanut. It’s been four days. You’re a mess and need some help. The only reason we didn’t come sooner is because we couldn’t find the top lock key to your apartment - though we rang the doorbell. _A lot_.”

 

Rey scowls harder at him, not relenting. Finn looks down at her with such love though that she can’t help but drop the look.

 

“I don’t know what happened exactly, Rey, but I can guess. And, no matter what you try to do or how much you try to ignore us, Poe and I will always be here for you.”

 

He brushes a strand of hair from her face, smiling sadly down at her.

 

“You can’t get rid of us, because we love you, peanut. We’re here for good.”

 

Rey’s heart clenches, and her eyes burn.

 

_If only Kylo had-_

 

She’s crying before she knows it, blubbering out the entire tale to him amidst snot, salt, and an aching throat and chest. She thought that due to the last few days, she’d be cried out. It seems she’s wrong.

 

Finn holds her close, her face buried in his shoulder. He smells of laundry detergent, Poe’s cologne, and, ever-so-faintly, the smell of flowers. It comforts her more than any words could, and soon she’s hiccuping her crying session to a close.

 

He strokes her hair a few more times before pulling back to look at her.

 

“A little better?”

 

Rey nods, still sniffling.

 

“Good, because that was Poe’s jacket you just smeared with your fluids. It’s been nice knowing you.”

 

Rey gives the tiniest huff of amusement, blowing her nose using one of the already crumpled tissues on her bedside table, amidst Saltine crackers and multiple empty bottles of water.

 

“Now go take a shower. You stink, Rey.”

 

She nods, not even able to manage a chuckle, before she has Finn help her out of bed. She slowly and gingerly pads off to do as told, but not before one last hand squeeze for Finn and a look that says ‘ _I love you too. Thank you for being one of the few people in my life to never leave me.’_

 

After a hot shower and fresh clothes, Rey feels a bit better. At least able to face the world.

 

She follows the smell of something delicious to her tiny kitchen. Poe stands in front of the stove flipping flapjacks like an expert. A ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron bedecks his form, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

 

Worried, then.

 

“Poe.”

  
  
He turns quickly, and she’s encased in a hug before she can say anything more.

 

“Rey, we were so worried,” he tells her, and his voice is a bit choked up.

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Poe pulls back, cupping her face with his hands, meeting her gaze and holding it for what feels like a long time.

 

Finally-

 

“It’s alright. Don’t do it again though. Don’t shut us out when you need us most.”

 

Rey nods slowly, squeezing his hand.

 

“I won’t.”

 

Poe holds her gaze a moment longer, before his familiar debonair smile overtakes his features.

 

“Good. Now I have blueberry, chocolate chip, and strawberry pancakes.”

 

Rey sighs. “I’m not hungry, Poe.”

 

He’s already plating the food before she can even finish her sentence.

 

“You are going to eat this entire plate of food, Rey. Non-negotiable.”

 

The plate is thunked down in front of her - one of each kind of pancake, some eggs, and half an avocado.

 

Sighing, Rey gingerly grabs the fork beside her plate and scoops up the first forkful.

 

Ahead of her lies a daunting task - finishing all that food. Each bite is tasteless mush that sits like lead in her stomach, but she eats it all the same under her friends’ watchful eyes. She gags on the second to last bite, truly not able to force anymore into her stomach.

 

“God, I can’t believe you aren’t even hungry,” Finn suddenly exclaims, pushing back from the table roughly. “That asshole did this to you. _YOU_ , who’s always trying to eat as much as possible!”

 

He paces the floor, fists clenching and unclenching in a way that painfully reminds Rey of Kylo.

 

“I should go beat him to a pulp,” Finn rages, hitting his fist into his other open palm. “It’s the very least he deserves for willfully hurting you, Rey.”

 

“ _Finn **no**_ ,” Rey stresses, somewhat surprised at her (normally level-headed and controlled) friend’s outburst. She looks to Poe for help but the man only looks like he’s in agreement.

 

“He deserves all that and more for what he did to you, Rey. I should-”

 

“Finn, tell me you won’t go confront Kylo,” Rey demands, standing up from the table, a dangerous ferocity in her eyes.

 

Finn meets her gaze though, holds it for a long time.

 

He eventually sighs loudly.

 

“Fine.”

 

"Fine what?" Rey stresses.

 

"Fine 'I won't go confront Kylo.'" 

* * *

 “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t beat you bloody right now,” Finn growls into Kylo’s face, fists tightening on the collar of Kylo’s t-shirt.

 

Kylo looks back at him without the slightest hint of fear - without the slightest hint of emotion - despite the fact that upon answering the door he had been promptly shoved back through the doorway and against his wall by Finn’s angry form.

 

“Huh?!” Finn yells, shaking Kylo’s form in an attempt to gain an answer from him. “Tell me one good reason!”

 

Kylo meets his gaze wearily.

 

“I don’t have one.”

 

The voice that comes from him is cracked and raspy. Broken.

 

Finn’s hands loosen unconsciously, truly taking in the sight of the man before him.

 

Purple shadows are painted with heavy strokes beneath his eyes, sunken and hollow in his face. His hair is lank and greasy, his face sallow and wane. Finn focuses on Kylo’s lips, cracked and ringed slightly with white mucus.

 

The man is majorly sleep deprived...and dehydrated.

 

 _This fucking wanker,_ Finn curses in his head (Rey's British slang having rubbed off on him), before tugging the stupid man into the next room.

 

This is not the first time Finn has been in Kylo’s apartment (he vaguely recalls fun Christmas parties with Hux and Phasma and the others) though he’d never thought he’d be here again.

 

Finn shoves Kylo down on the leather couch, though it’s really more of an insistent push, before stomping to the kitchen where he slams a pot of soup on the stove. While it heats, he brings a Gatorade and water to Kylo.

 

“Drink this. Drink it slowly, but I want it all gone by the time I leave here.”

 

Kylo doesn’t argue, doesn’t even respond, taking them and swallowing some water. Mildly satisfied, Finn goes back to the kitchen and serves up the soup. Kylo eyes the finished product with little emotion, watching the tendrils of steam waft into the air.

 

“You’re going to eat all of this soup and at least three pieces of bread or I’m gonna do what I originally came here to do.”

 

Kylo’s lips give the most miniscule twitch - in humour? - before he begins to eat under Finn’s harsh glare.

 

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” Finn mutters to himself.

 

“I don’t either,” Kylo attests, taking a forced bite from his bread.

 

“Shut up,” Finn snaps back, though he knows it’s not entirely warranted on Kylo’s part.

 

Kylo simply shrugs, taking another bite from his bread.

 

“What you did to her is _unforgivable_ , you know.”

 

Kylo freezes, the food he’s consumed suddenly churning in his gut. He tastes bile in the back of his throat.

 

“She’s a mess. Better, but still a mess. She wouldn’t come out of her room for this whole _week_.”

 

Kylo pushes away the empty soup bowl and the untouched third slice of bread.

 

“You had to at least have had a clue about her childhood - what she went through, bouncing from foster family to foster family. Passed around like some goddamn _object_.”

 

Finn shakes his head, staring at the pitiful excuse for a man before him.

 

“I don’t know how you could do that to someone, _anyone_ \- especially her. I thought…” Finn trails off, debating with himself. “I thought you’d turned over a new leaf. You were different with her. Softer. Kinder.”

 

Finn chances a glance at Kylo to see him in agony, tears marring his brown eyes. Finn stares at him with an intensity that would make lesser men run away.

 

“The man I see right now, the man who’s changed since I knew him, is a man in love,” Finn finally voices, eyes hard yet determined. “So why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you say it back?”

 

Kylo’s eyes close, tears finally falling at the movement, a silver river dripping down his face.

 

“ _I don’t know_.”

 

Finn is quiet, watching Kylo face his pain. He lets him have his moment, picking at the threads on his sweater. Finn knows that for Kylo to open up in front of him, he must have been _truly_ hurting.

 

When Kylo’s sobs have subsided, Finn clasps his shoulder in his hand.

 

“You’re fucked up, Kylo. So is she. But...the two of you could be less fucked up _together_. Maybe even heal each other for the better.”

 

Kylo makes no reply, struggling to bite back the sobs that claw at his throat. Finn doesn’t say anything further, sitting with the other man in silence. It’s not harsh, but not quite comfortable, falling somewhere in the middle.

 

“I didn’t do what you think, you know.”

 

Finn’s gaze flickers back to Kylo, confused and a little bit wary.

 

“You’ll have to be more specific, you’ve done a lot of shit.”

 

Kylo meets his gaze.

 

“I didn’t put those guys in the hospital for no reason. What type of fucking person do you think I am?”

 

Finn’s face immediately closes off, eyes hard.

 

“I’m not talking about this-”

 

“No,” Kylo growls, slamming a clenched fist down on the leather arm of the couch. “You’re going to listen to me. You’re going to listen to me for once and not make any judgements before I tell you the true and _entire_ story.”

 

Finn’s eyes are angry and harsh, but he doesn’t move. Jaw clenching, ticking.

 

“I didn’t care what you thought of me before. But now…”

 

Kylo shakes his head.

 

“Now it’s different.”

 

Finn remains reserved, waiting.

 

Kylo sucks in a breath and begins telling Phasma’s story, the one he’d been rehearsing since so long ago in case a day came like today. In case he began to care what Rey’s friends thought - in case they started to become friends of his own.

 

Upon his final words of the story, Kylo releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, falling back into the couch. He feels a thousand pounds lighter, though there’s still an ache deep within him that is hollow and demands attention. But the knowledge that he’s finally revealed to Finn the cause of the other man’s longtime hatred is a relief that Kylo is absurdly surprised by.

 

Beside him, Finn remains as unmoving as he had since the beginning of the story, eyes unreadable and mouth still set into a frown.

 

After a time, he finally speaks.

 

“Thank you for telling me.”

 

Kylo, feeling as though this stranger (acquaintance?) had seen more of him (the _real_ him) today than most people saw in _years,_ keeps his expressive eyes downcast.

 

They say nothing more for the next hour, but the air between them isn’t as sharp. It could almost be called amiable.

 

Finn finally rises with the sound of the leather couch creaking and a quick sigh.

 

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” he says, not leaving any room for discussion. “Drink more water.”

 

And just as suddenly as Finn had arrived, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azalea Flower Meaning: 'Take care of yourself for me'


	14. Geranium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trash son finally confronts the bane of his existence aka his father
> 
> *A panic attack occurs in this chapter. If hearing the symptoms or experience of a panic attack triggers you or puts you into an uncomfortable position, please skip the part with asterisks surrounding it like here*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I go again, crawling out of the woodwork to give my excuses about why this chapter is so late. By now, you guys really shouldn't be surprised *sobs*
> 
> But I've honestly been dealing with a lot of stuff - my cousin was hospitalised after a serious car crash and it was thought he wouldn't ever walk again, I broke up with my boyfriend, and my grandpa was hospitalised. I promise you I've been trying to organise and write Eff in my free time, while also assuring I have time for myself and self-care.
> 
> Anyways, without further ado, have the next chapter.

***A panic attack occurs in this chapter. If hearing the symptoms or experience of a panic attack triggers you or puts you into an uncomfortable position, please skip the part with asterisks surrounding it like here***

 

* * *

 

Finn stops by at least once a day now.

 

The first day after their first... _encounter_ , he came with muffins. Banana chocolate chip. “An old family recipe” he’d said. The day after that he’d brought Kylo homemade soup and bread.

 

Kylo humourously wondered if maybe he should’ve dated Finn instead of Rey - because Finn could _cook_.

 

The thought, though it sent a stabbing pain through him, indicated at least some degree of healing. The edges of a wound not so jagged anymore, but slowly, _slowly_ , starting to scab.

 

On Finn’s fourth visit to his apartment, he came bearing gifts along with his container of damn good chicken enchiladas - _green, leafy_ gifts.

 

“You need some plants to suck up the dull air in here,” Finn had muttered, steadfastly ignoring Kylo’s twitching lips which betrayed his vague amusement.

 

And from then on Kylo had had exactly five plants in his house.

 

He couldn’t remember the names of all their types for the life of him but all had the same care schedule, which Finn had thankfully written on a note and magneted to his fridge. Kylo could remember one name though: a Philodendron. The plant Rey had wanted to get for him.

 

Finn had told Kylo its name and a brief summary of how to care for it, but he had almost immediately zoned out - remembering the look on Rey’s face when he’d promised her he would allow plants into his apartment.

 

_“So what do you say? Some Aloe or some Philodendron plants, maybe?”_

 

_“Sure, as long as you can take care of them.”_

 

_“Teach you how to take care of them,” Rey had corrected._

 

_“Teach me how to take care of them.”_

 

And so Kylo had descended into thoughts of plants ( _a blossoming garden all over freckled skin_ ) and sunshine smiles and the smell of gardenias wafting from bronze hair pulled up in three buns as a head nuzzled into his neck.

 

Unknownst to Kylo, Finn had given a disheartened sigh mid-instructions and muttered “I’ll just write it down…” Then quieter “-just like Leia said: _you have to_ _write it down,_ ” before ambling off to find some paper and a pen.

 

Kylo cast a look at the Philodendron now, sitting in the corner of his room by the window, all green and cheery-leafed.

 

He’d seriously debated letting it die, toyed with the idea in some twisted idea of payback at Rey. He’d been _determined_ to do it, but then he’d found himself watering it, moving it in and out of sunlight, rearranging its leaves idly.

 

It wasn’t because it reminded him of Rey - it wasn’t! The repetitive and easily followed list of instructions for how to care for the plants was just oddly comforting - a reprieve of mundane caregiving in the midst of a sea of confusion, regret, and anger. That was _all_.

 

So when Finn showed up a week after his first visit, this time with mac n’ cheese, Kylo surprised himself by reaching for the ketchup.

 

Finn watched knowingly as Kylo proceeded to squirt the tomato condiment all over his cheesy elbow noodles - in the exact same fashion Rey had done most of her childhood and adult life. The irony of Kylo giving her grief over it was not lost on him.

 

The taste wasn’t anything remarkable, but neither was it bad. Nevertheless, Kylo found that the food had turned to a hard lump in his throat as he tried to swallow. The lump was accompanied by a silver sheen to his eyes and that deep ache he thought had finally gone.

 

“You’re holding onto a lot of things, Kylo. A hell-of-a lot,” Finn started. “And you’re not willing to let them go - actually, you’re not willing to let certain things go and embrace others.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” rasped Kylo in question, equal parts embarrassed, angry, and in pain.

 

“On the contrary, I think you do - you know it all too well. The pressure of knowing that is forcing you to have even more anxiety about all this.”

 

Kylo tightened his fist around his fork, the metal cool against his hot palm.

 

“I think that this deal with Rey...it’s only part of the problem. To find the solution, you’re gonna have to dig deep and get to the roots of that thing.”

 

Kylo had the sudden image of him digging relentlessly at a tree, a tree of his own memories and experiences, exposing more and more roots only to find they keep going  - on and on.

 

“I think the only way you’re gonna figure out what you feel and what you should do about those emotions is confronting the root of all of this and coming to terms with it. Healing, you know. That stuff.”

 

It was the same quacky bullshit he’d heard at his mother’s mandated therapy sessions - the ones he attended in high school to help control his anger problems, anxiety, and feelings of unbelonging. His name was no longer Ben Solo at these therapists - it was ‘Commitment problems’ and ‘Abandonment issues’. He was defined only by how fucked up he was.

 

Yet, hearing these things coming from Finn, a...friend? An acquaintance? An annoyingly nice enemy that brings him homemade muffins? Whatever Finn was to him, hearing these things from him was making Kylo really _think_.

 

Kylo had already done a lot of thinking this last week and a half. Maybe more than he’d ever done before. Thoughts about life, and people, and anxiety. Thoughts about the future, thoughts about the nitty gritty in-between of the present.

 

But for the first time in a long time, after Finn had left, Kylo thought about the _past_.

 

* * *

 

Nights spent all alone, reading to himself in a blanket fort of his own making, tales of strong princesses and dashing heroes and families full of love. His mother coming in way too late - or, rather, way too early - once a week to see him. Her pressing a kiss to his forehead, only to leave again before he could clear the fog of sleep enough to grab her and ask her to just _stay_ for once.

_Just stay with me._

 

Nights spent still alone but _not really_ , the sound of breaking glass echoing, the muffled, hushed tones of heated anger and spitting rage below.

_“I’m a US Senator, you can’t expect me to condone you running an illegal car-stripping business! What if I’m caught allowing this? I could lose **everything** Han!” _

_“I can’t just stop, Leia. I’m already **in**.” _

 

Or the favourite “Get your act together or so help me, I _will_ leave, and I’ll take _our_ son with me.” Followed by “So you could forget about him at Senate meetings and hire nanny after nanny until he forgets who his real mother is?”

The sound of a palm smacking against a stubbled cheek. The muted sobs of his mother that he could still hear over the running shower. The clink and clank of his father’s whiskey decanter, the slosh of his father’s glass being refilled and refilled and refilled again.

Those nights spent thinking over and over that his father - _his_ _father_ , goddamn him - was the reason his mother didn’t come home as often. _His father’s_ business put his mother in danger. _His father_ wouldn’t give up his business for his mother’s career. _His father_ put distance between him and his mother.

 

* * *

But then, somehow, it changed. Changed to-

 

Creeping out of bed to hear his mother whispering _his_ name and “not good at socialising”, “behavioral problems”, “won’t even _talk_ to other kids for god’s sake!”

 

Finding his mother crying in his father’s arms now (instead of the shower), as he rubbed her back and soothed her with gruffly soft hums.

 

Finding “Child psychologists near me” and “What to do when your kid has anger problems?” from _MommyHelp.com_ on his mother’s search history when he goes to look up ‘calligraphy’ on her phone.

 

And suddenly it’s not ‘ _his father’_ any longer.

 

It’s _him_.

 

* * *

 

_“Y_ _ou should talk to him. You both miss each other and you’re being ‘stubborn asses’ as Leia would say.”_

 

_“It’s gonna happen one day. Might as well be before the wedding so that you can walk Leia down the aisle without glaring at him up on the altar.”_

 

Rey’s words echo in his head as Kylo’s feet hit the pavement, walking the two blocks from where he parked his car to his father’s autoshop. Giving himself time to collect his thoughts, or perhaps delaying the inevitable.

 

Confronting his father was not something he was doing for Rey. No. Even though it helps him in figuring out his feelings and relationship with Rey, this is something he’s doing for _himself_. For his father. For his mother. Rey might have been the catalyst, but he would be the one to ultimately decide to confront his father and try to work through an entire life’s worth of problems.

 

When Kylo sees the faded blue exterior of Solo’s Repair Garage, he is struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. The last time he had been at his father’s shop...well, it’d been years and years.

 

The bell tinkled overhead as Kylo walked inside, the front office area lacking any visible employee. Continuing through the room and the waiting room, he makes his way into the garage area. The sounds that immediately envelope him fill Kylo’s head with swimming images - memories - of him, heads shorter, toddling along the concrete floor amidst the chaos of repairs. (A safety hazard, his mother had always said)

 

Managing not to slip in a slick of grimy black grease that streaks the floor, he finally sees the telltale head of sandy grey hair that denotes his father.

 

 ***** He’s suddenly encompassed by a wave of emotion so strong, it nearly drives him to his knees.

 

Terror, he realises. He’s fucking _terrified_ to confront his father.

 

He’s had panic attacks before. Oh, he’s had _many_ . But this type of panic is so deep and so overwhelming that it’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. His heart beats so viciously in his chest that it _hurts_ , and he’s suddenly drenched in sweat, with hands that shake more than the Falcon starting up.

 

He manages to weakly stumble his way to the nearest metal bench, collapsing as though he’s run a marathon. His breath is too fast, much too fast, and the mantra “ _Deep breathes, Ben. Slow and steady,_ ” echoes in his head in his mother’s throaty tenor, instilled from years of her coaxing him down from a panic.

 

_Deep breathes, Ben. Slow and steady._

 

Her voice is lower than he remembers, more husky and gruff.

 

_Deep breathes._

 

Because it’s not his mother’s voice at all, Kylo realises.

 

It’s his father’s.

 

“Come on, Ben. Slow and steady, in and out.”

 

Kylo frantically casts his gaze upwards from where his head is smashed into his hands, hunched over on the bench.

 

There his father stands, the room closing in around him, the only focal point in Kylo’s vision. He can’t make out his face, his form only visible amidst the black spots spotting Kylo’s gaze.

 

Kylo’s so shocked at his father’s appearance that he chokes on his breath, leading to a bout of heavy coughing that, while still not doing much in terms of aspiration, is still more air than the shallow pants from before.

 

“Breathe, Ben. Just Breathe.”

 

And while his father’s voice is comforting in it’s own oddity, it still does little to tame the beast that’s been unleashed within Kylo. *****

 

That is, until Kylo feels the repetitive tapping at his left hand which is fiercely clenched into a fist on the bench.

 

Tap tap, followed by two long taps.

 

Four taps. One tap. Tap, pause, tap tap. Tap.

 

Kylo at first thinks it’s erratic. Just random taps of Han’s calloused, greasy fingers on his taunt, blanched skin.

 

But then Kylo remembers the phase in which he was obsessed with morse code, a phase which embarrassingly continued well on into his adulthood. He remembers his father teaching him, grease-stained but glad to be teaching his son something he understood.

 

Tap tap. Tap, long tap. Two long taps.

 

.. / .- /--

 

He’s rusty for certain, but he knows this easily: **_I am_ **

 

Four taps. One tap. Tap, long tap, tap. One final tap.

.... /. /.-. /.

 

This one is harder, and it’s a full minute of his father repeating the message before Kylo finally understands: **_Here._ **

 

With a start, Kylo realises what his father is tapping out on his now slackened hand.

 

**_I’m here._ **

 

And by the time Kylo realises what his father is saying, he’s spent so much time hyper focused on the sensation and thought process behind interpreting the code that his breathing has calmed. It’s not back to his normal rhythm, but it’s much improved.

 

Kylo glances up at his father with an expression of unadulterated shock painted across his strong features with a bold hand.

 

Kylo’s not sure exactly what he’s most shaken by - his father repeating the mantra that had been his mother’s throughout his life, the morse code message, or that his father had somehow calmed the most intense panic attack he’d ever experienced.

 

However, he quickly tries to let the shock slide away, feeling his pulse threaten to jump again. He instead continues to take slow, measured breathes, focusing on the metallic smell of the garage streaked through with the taint of burnt grease, gasoline, and rubber.

 

“That was a bad one, huh?” comes Han’s gruff voice finally, and Kylo practically flinches at the sound.

 

“Yeah,” he manages shakily, clenching and unclenching his fists to try to get some feeling back into the tingling digits.

 

“Glad you were here then, so I could, you know-”

 

Kylo watches the ever emotionally-inarticulate Han wave his hand to indicate that his “you know” actually meant “helping you through your panic attack”. Kylo wisely decides not to mention that the whole reason he had the panic attack was due to the being here in the first place.

 

“So…,” Han says after a couple minutes more of silence bordering on uncomfortable while Kylo regains his composure and calms his breathing. “Why you here, kid?”

  
  
Kylo knows the question is out of pure curiosity, but still, said in Han’s gruff, demanding voice, it sends a sharp pang through him.

 

He’s suddenly taunted by the idea of running. Running straight out of the shop and into his car and back home where he’ll forget the very thought of ever reconciling or facing his father ever again. He’s tempted so much that his body even rises from the bench some.

 

But then he catches a glimpse of his father’s left hand, where his gold wedding band would normally be. Han’s hand is bare - bare because he chose not to wear his ring while working so as not to damage or dirty it.  And Kylo is suddenly reminded of his parent’s upcoming vow renewal ceremony and the lackluster role he’s played in it so far.

 

And even though Kylo could honestly care less for the ceremony and the frou-frou his mother concerns herself with, he knows that she will want him there - will want her son to be a part of it all. So he and Han need to be able to be in the same room without their tension and emotional constipation invading the chapel like some kind of plague.

 

“Han,” he forces himself to say, practically choking on the words.  “We need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

They wade through years of emotional constipation and baggage like they’re wading through a trash compactor of garbage.

 

They’ve moved from the repair shop to Han and Leia’s house (Ben’s childhood home -- which brings years of memories concerning his father hurtling towards him, fueling the fire). They sit in leather armchairs facing one another as though it’s a showdown. It very well might be.

 

Kylo accuses and throws words and spits curses and Han does the very same, chucking out explanation after explanation and curse after curse.

 

Forcing Leia to lie and cover for Han and his illegal auto business comes up often, as does Han’s uncaring demeanor and lack of participation in his son’s life. Missed birthday parties and parent-teacher nights and “What about my bar mitzvah, _Dad_?” (Though the title ‘Dad’ is scarringly sarcastic, it’s still an improvement on calling his father by his first name).

 

Complaints about Kylo’s temper tantrums and grudge-holding echo Kylo’s own complaints, Han dealing out as much as he took.

 

“Well, why do you think I had the damn temper tantrums? _You’re_ the one that was always getting mad and shattering vases and glasses! _You’re_ the one that always lost your temper at Mom!”

 

“Yeah, and you really hold on to those things don’t you, kid? Leia let ‘em go, why can’t you? You keep dredging all these gripes up so easily. Makes me think you’ve really been biting at these things for years-”

 

“Of course I have,” Kylo explodes. “You ruined my childhood!”

 

Han shook his head.

 

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a bad spot. You had everything you ever wanted. Maybe we were a little absent but-”

 

“A _little_ absent? Just a little?! I was left alone practically every day of my childhood - between Mom’s senate shit, and your _side business_ ,” this Kylo sneered in a condescending tone. “For god’s sake, my best friend was the weird bird stuffed animal that had your and mom’s voices recorded on it. That _porg_ thing or whatever! Because  _you weren’t there_ to tuck me in.”

 

“Oh, give me a break, kid. You-”

 

“I’m not a _kid_! You lost your chance to call me kid when you missed out on my childhood! And then destroyed my adulthood by making me choose college or the fucking streets!”

 

Something about those words seemed to hit Han deep, because he’s suddenly standing and Kylo’s scrambling to his feet too.

 

“Don’t you start on that, Ben, you can’t possibly understand-”

 

“Oh, I don’t understand, of course not!”

 

“Goddamnit Ben, you don’t! You needed to go to college and get that degree, you needed-”

 

“Why did I need it so goddamn badly? Why did I have to go and get a fucking degree in _business_ of all things when that’s the last thing I wanted to do?!” He’s full on screaming at this point, and he faintly recognises that his face is wet.

 

“ _Because, Ben!_ ” His father yells, but it’s a wet sound, like a sob. “Because I didn’t want you to end up like _me_ \- some goddamned loser with a gambling addiction without a degree to his name. Forced to stoop to stealing and stripping cars to help keep his family afloat! I didn’t want that for you!”

 

Kylo is shocked by his father’s outburst - shocked to see his father’s face red and a bit wet too.

 

There is a silence that stretches between them like a string, pulled taut. Neither wants to speak first, but luckily, a cold wet nose saves them the trouble.

 

Chewie flops onto the floor in between the two of them, his legs overlapping Han’s feet and his head resting on Ben’s. Both men glance down at the dog and the air relaxes somewhat, though still painted tense and bated.

 

“I guess it comes down to the fact that I had a shitty father, and now I’m a shitty father.”

  
Kylo had heard some tales of his grandfather, a man with a gambling addiction, a bad temper, and an affinity for alcohol. It was someone Han had gotten away from at his quickest opportunity, yet Kylo knew the fact that Han had some of his father’s same traits bothered him to the core.

 

Perhaps that’s what makes him say: “You _were_ a shitty dad, yeah. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep being one. You can fucking _change.”_

 

Even though the words sound rough and accusatory, Han can see what it actually is - a stilted, awkward invitation back into his son’s life.

 

“Fine,” Han says gruffly, just as emotionally ineloquent as his son. “But you have to come to all that family gathering shit Leia has. She misses you like crazy, and I have to put up with her crying about it. It’s time to change that.”

 

Kylo sighed grumpily - like he was a teenager all over again.

 

“Fine.”

 

Kylo knew that his journey to normalcy (or however close they could get to it) with his father was far from over. It had barely even begun. However, he couldn’t help but feel as though a weight had been lifted from him - an aching, acidic weight that had been slowly eating away at him for years and years.

 

Yet, he wondered if it really was too late,  if too much of him - of _Ben Solo_ \- had disintegrated. So much so that he possibly couldn’t learn to trust or love his father again.

 

But he’d learned to care for a certain someone who smelled of flowers and looked like sunshine, so he guessed he was willing to give his father a try too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geranium Flower Meaning: Stupidity; Folly (Also used in aromatherapy to help with depression and anxiety)


End file.
